Retribution
by harllett
Summary: COMPLETE New outlaws, new betrayal, new love and new enemies flourish in the forest as Robin and his men recover from the events of the Holy Land. Post season two finale Allan/OC
1. Missing you

**Disclaimer :** I don't own anything except any characters you don't recognise from the BBC Robin Hood show. And I'm a skint student, so please don't sue me.

**Rating:** T

**Summary :** New outlaws, new betrayal and new love flourish in the forest as Robin and his men recover from the events of the Holy Land. [Post season two finale

**Author's Note : **I started writing this story and couldn't resist temptation to start posting it. I have a confession to make: I haven't seen much Robin Hood. I am Nottingham born and bred but was in America for a year whilst the first series was shown, then always busy on Saturday nights during the second season. I caught a few episodes on UKTV Gold a couple of weeks ago and became addicted! Its my new love. I have read online what happens so hopefully this fic won't have too many mistakes, please let me know if I make any glaring ones.

So without furthur ado, Retribution!

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**Chapter 1**

The camp seemed smaller somehow. Allan wasn't sure how, but it did. He had imagined it would be roomier, even spacious, with three less people living in it. Instead, the walls closed in around them, reminding the remaining outlaws how small their world was and how much emptier it was now.

Staring into the flames of the merrily blazing fire, all Allan could see was their faces. Marian, gone forever, hopefully to somewhere she could finally live in peace without divided loyalties or torn affections. Will and Djaq, not dead, but who knew when he would see them again? Allan's greatest regret was that he had been unable to prove himself to them, his best friends. He had betrayed them, and now he could not spend every day making it up to them as he had tried to do with the others.

Not that they noticed – everyone was too preoccupied with their own thoughts. No longer was there any of the teasing, joking or easy laughter that Allan thrived on, none of the fun he had missed during his time as Gisborne's man. Cooped up in camp, Robin too absorbed in his grief to formulate any plans, all they had to do was dwell on their loss. They dared not venture too far from their secret base, fearful of crossing the Sheriff and Gisborne; after the events of the Holy Land their rage would be absolute.

Allan was not used to sitting still and resisting the urge to fidget. He had delighted in fidgeting around Gisborne and the Sheriff, knowing how much it annoyed them both. Risking the disturbance of movement he twisted his head to survey his companions.

Robin was lying on his bunk with his back to the room, no doubt thinking of Marian, perhaps reliving the nightmare moment of her death. Allan was terrified for Robin, and for what his self-imposed isolation meant for the rest of them. He seemed to have lost faith in their cause – worse, he seemed to have lost interest. Allan A Dale was not one to trust easily, probably because he knew that he himself was not to be trusted. He was more likely to betray someone else and let them take a punishment on his behalf than face the consequences of his actions. But Robin – Robin was different. He inspired trust. And Allan A Dale would have followed Robin Hood to his death.

Sitting on the bunk opposite Robin's, worried eyes fixed on his master, was Much. Allan felt a stir of pity in his stomach for the young man who was suffering almost as badly as Robin. Dark circles under his eyes showed how little he had slept, as he lay awake for hours in case his master needed him. Robin did need him – he just hadn't realised it yet. He snapped at Much every time he tried to offer words of comfort. Although Allan had often been scathing of Much's commitment to another man and scornful of the sacrifices he made for him, he wished Robin would stop being so cruel to the most loyal friend he would ever find.

John sat near Allan, next to the fire, trying to make himself useful by cleaning a sword with a rag. The sword hadn't been used for weeks, and was already gleaming with cleanliness, but Allan knew he just needed something to distract him. Allan was glad he was there; John didn't say much, but his solid presence was somehow comforting. And Allan knew the quiet man felt the loss as deeply as any of them.

Stifling a yawn Allan ran a hand through his hair, wincing as he felt the dirt and grit loosen under his fingertips. He was certainly back in the forest; no baths with pretty girls ready to fill them with warm water for you. He was tired, but he knew sleep would not come easily to him that night. It never did anymore.

The camp was silent. Allan hated silence, but he did not dare speak. He knew any attempt at conversation would fall flat, any of his characteristic humour would be unwelcome. Needing something to do he tossed another log on the fire. Much jumped slightly, startled by the hiss and crack of the flames as they took hold of the fresh wood. Allan watched the flames lick along the log, their cheerful brightness taunting him. The colour and light seemed intrusive somehow, in this dark place filled with despair and uncertainty. Emotions were crowding the camp, stifling it.

Allan couldn't stand it anymore. He rose swiftly from the stool on which he had been seated and left the camp quickly, before anyone could reprimand him for venturing alone into the unknown darkness. He just needed to get out.

The fresh air was a balm to his soul, the feeling of freedom overwhelming him. The forest was quiet too, but it was a peaceful, calming silence and a welcome relief.

Allan's sense of direction had always been poor at the best of times, and the darkness did not improve matters. To him all the trees looked the same – he had never understood how Will had been able to navigate the forest easier than if he had had a map. The thought of Will made his stomach clench and he began walking quickly, blinking furiously to get rid of the tears that had sprung from nowhere.

He made for the nearest path, reaching it quickly and walking blindly along it until a sound in the distance made him freeze. Even Allan, whose hearing was almost as poor as his sense of direction, could not miss the distinct sound of hoof beats against the packed dirt of the road.

Ducking into the undergrowth and behind the nearest tree Allan gripped the handle of his sword, glad that he had had the sense to grab it on his way out of camp. The moon was bright and the source of the sound soon came into sight.

The horse was lame – it was favouring its right foreleg – but was plodding forward determinedly, head bowed. There seemed to be a pile of blankets on its back. Allan waited, his interest piqued, alert all the while for a sign of the horse's owner.

As it neared the horse stumbled and the bundle upon its back slid to the ground, landing in a heap with a thud. Tightening his grip on his sword, Allan ran forward silently until he could kneel by the pile, which he soon realised was a person wrapped in a cloak. It was a girl, if the blonde hair spilling out of the hood was any indication, and a dark stain on her arm showed that she was bleeding. For a moment Allan wondered if she was dead, as that would explain why she had been slumped over her horse's neck and then put up no resistance to falling from the animals back, but then he noticed the gentle rise and fall of her chest and knew she was merely unconscious.

A moment of indecision hit him as he wondered if he should just check her belongings for valuables to steal before sense set in and he realised his could not leave a vulnerable, injured girl lying on the road alone. Decision made he gathered her into his arms, grunting slightly as he stood. He managed to catch hold of the reins of the docile horse with a spare finger and with a click of the tongue to summon the animal Allan set off back the way he had come.

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**A/N:** So there you have it. I know the ending is very damsel-in-distress, but hopefully the next few chapters will improve things. Reviews are love. 


	2. Who are you?

**Chapter 2: Who are you?**

Allan stumbled into the camp to find everyone in the same positions as he had left them. Only John looked up with mild interest to see the cause of the disturbance.

"Much! Help me!" Allan gasped, staggering under the weight of the load he carried. Much jumped to his feet and helped Allan lay the girl down on the bunk he had just vacated. "Found her in the forest," Allan told him in response to the unvoiced question. "She's hurt."

Much had already spotted the dried blood stain on her sleeve. He ripped the sleeve open to reveal what looked like an arrow wound. Moving quickly Much went to the corner and began rifling through the various pots and boxes that Djaq had left behind. The little medical knowledge the gang had learned from her was now retained and practised by Much.

Allan turned to John. "Her horse and all her things are outside." John nodded his understanding, grasped his staff, and left the camp silently as Robin dropped down from his bunk.

The girl flinched but didn't wake as Much deftly cleaned the wound with a damp rag. He then dipped the rag into a pot of dubious-smelling green ointment and pressed it against the broken flesh. Allan, Robin and Much all winced as she woke with a roar, rearing up from the bed and smacking her head against the wooden bunk above her.

"OUCH!" she yelled, rubbing her head. As she was distracted Much pressed the rag against her wound again. "OUCH!" she bellowed again, moving her hand to cover the wound protectively and glaring at Much. "What did you do that for!"

"Who are you?" Robin asked, ignoring her question.

"Me name's Cassie," she answered, rubbing her sore head.

"Are you a spy?" he asked bluntly.

"Robin!" Much admonished. "She doesn't look much like a spy."

"Neither did Allan," Robin retorted. He grabbed hold of the girl's arms, ignoring her shriek of pain as his fingers closed around the fresh wound, and dragged her off the bunk before forcing her down onto a stool. "I'll ask you again. Who are you?"

"And I'll tell you again, me name's Cassie!"

"Where are you from?"

"Stonewell." Robin glared at her until she continued. "I'm a maid in the house of the estate. I'd had enough of being a skivvy and gettin' paid a pittance. Its not enough to keep me old mum see, she's in Scarborough so I send her all me money. Last time I saw her she said there's a job goin' I'd be perfect for, so I took me old nag and was on me way. Must have fell asleep."

"You were leaving in the middle of the night?" Robin asked suspiciously.

"Hadn't told me master had I!" she retorted, jutting her chin out defiantly.

"You were running away?" She shrugged stubbornly. "So when did you get shot by an arrow?"

"Shot by an arrow! Ha! Caught me arm on a hook on the wall of the stable didn't I!"

John opened the door to the camp and beckoned Robin, who nodded and slipped out of the camp to join him. Cassie smiled gratefully at Much who had handed her a cup of water. "Don't mind Robin," he whispered. "Doesn't trust his shadow anymore."

Robin re-entered the camp followed by John, who had the bundle of Cassie's belongings in his arms. Cassie's eyes flicked to it briefly, before she fixed her gaze back on the outlaw who had begun to slowly pace before her. "It seems you haven't been entirely truthful with us." Much eyed him reproachfully. "Firstly, that wound on your arm looks identical to a lot of arrow marks that I've seen before. And secondly, how did a simple maid like yourself come by trinkets such as these?" He brought his hands from behind his back, holding up a jewelled necklace, a bag of gold, and a colourful silk scarf that would have cost a fortune.

"Family heirlooms," she replied promptly.

"Sure you didn't steal them and that's why you're running away?"

"Quite sure."

Robin stopped his pacing and stared down at her. "I'm quite sure I don't believe you. The way I see it, there are two options. You're either a liar, or you're a thief. And we don't like liars or thieves."

Cassie snorted derisively. "Robin Hood doesn't like liars or thieves!" She gave a burst of humourless laughter. "Bit hypocritical that, ain't it?"

Robin smirked. "Thirdly, I wouldn't expect a scullery maid to use the word 'hypocritical'."

Cassie dropped her gaze, looking sulkily at her hands which were folded in her lap. Allan looked at her, appalled. "You were spinning us a yarn? I don't believe it! Not being funny but I'm the best liar I know and you fooled even me!" He kicked at a stool, thoroughly ashamed of himself. Cassie allowed herself a grin.

"Think it's funny do you?" Robin snapped. "I told you, I don't like being lied to. Now are you going to tell me the truth, or should I tie you to my horse and drag you back to Stonewell?"

Cassie threw her hands up in defeat. "Oh alright!" she grumbled, her village accent disappearing in an instant. "My name is Cassandra, but I hate it, so call me Cassie. And if you give me some of that stew I'll tell you the truth."

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**Author's Note:** Thank you weldolet for the review! Reviews make me smile so if you have anything to say, please do! Constructive criticism is always welcome! 


	3. Escape

**Chapter 3: Escape**

_Two days earlier_

"And make sure you heat up water for a bath after you finish with the floor!"

Cassie sighed, rubbing a hand across her face, no doubt smearing her cheeks with dirt. Blowing a stray wisp of dirty blonde hair from her face she dunked her rag back in the pail of water in front of her and continued scrubbing at the stone floor of the parlour. She knew that there were visitors arriving later and the floor would be stomped upon with dirty boots, so saw no need to be cleaning the floor, but it was master's orders.

Master. She snorted, scrubbing harder as the familiar rage began to boil in her veins at the thought of him. Archibald Sloane was a hard man, a cruel man, and had no right to the title of master, or Lord of Stonewell, both of which he had taken for himself.

Her father had been Lord of Stonewell, inheriting the title from his father along with the house in which they lived and the village they governed. He and his wife had lived happily in the manor house for several years before having Cassie, but on the day Henry Layton gained a daughter he lost a wife, his beloved Mary dying in childbirth.

It was strange, Cassie mused as she scraped at a particularly stubborn piece of mud, that she could miss something she had never had. She had never known her mother, never even known a substitute as her father had never remarried, but she thought of Mary every day.

Heavy footsteps in the hall alerted Cassie to the approach of Sloane. The door slammed open, crashing against the stone wall, and his overbearing presence filled the room. "This is taking far too long," he snapped, eying her with disdain. "Hurry yourself, I need you to fill me a bath when you're finished."

"Martha already told me you require a bath," she replied as politely as possible. Martha was in charge of the maids.

"Don't answer back to me wench!" he roared. Cassie braced herself as he walked over to her but he didn't raise his hand – instead, he placed a foot firmly on the floor and dragged it backwards, leaving a smear of mud on the clean floor. "You missed a bit." Laughing to himself, he left the room.

Grumbling under her breath Cassie turned her attention to the fresh stain. She had had a happy life growing up, even if it was just her and her father – there were plenty of children in her village to play with. They didn't care that she was a noble, Lady Cassandra, with more money than they could ever hope to earn. She was just Cassie, who played in the haybarn and rolled in the mud. Then the Sheriff took over and everything changed. Life wasn't carefree anymore – the villagers' clothes got older and more worn, they got thinner, and the worry lines in her father's forehead got deeper. The village children wouldn't play with her anymore.

Her father had opposed the policies of the Sheriff, but as the legal system in Nottingham became more and more corrupt his voice became ignored. Then he began to change. He didn't support the Sheriff – he would never do that – but he began drinking more. Cassie could never work out when it had started but he had stopped talking to her like he always had, withdrawing to his study in the evenings instead of sitting with her in the parlour. Slowly he began to look dishevelled, stopped shaving in the mornings, and wore the same clothes for days. The stench of ale always clung to him.

Gradually she noticed things missing in the house – money at first, a maid had to go as there was not enough to pay her. Then items of silverware disappeared from the drawers, and a piece of her mother's jewellery went missing.

Cassie worked out quickly that he was gambling their belongings away, but it was already too late. One night her father returned home with Sloane, stumbling, blind drunk. He had staked his Lordship on a dice game and lost. By sunset the following night her father had left for Nottingham, where there were taverns to drink in and soldiers to gamble with, and Sloane had moved into the master bedroom. He offered her a job as a maid which she took, knowing she needed to earn money. She begged her father to stay but the lure of Nottingham was too strong for his ale-addled mind.

Finally finished with the floor Cassie stood up, stretching her aching back. After fetching a second pail from the store cupboard she walked into the yard, threw a handful of grain to the chickens which pecked around her feet, and drew enough water from the well to fill the pails. Walking back inside she set them to heat up by the fire. She had been a maid in the house for a few weeks now and she hated it. She didn't mind working, although she did miss some of the luxuries granted to her during her life as Lady of Stonewell, but she truly hated having to answer to a man like Sloane.

Once the bath was filled Cassie took her chance at a little freedom. Taking some bread and cheese from the kitchen she hurried outside, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine until she slipped inside the nearby barn. The building was cool and shady, smelling of horses and hay. The horses in the stalls whickered and stamped quietly and Cassie rubbed their soft noses gently, stopping at her own horse and whispering to her.

"They wont talk back you know, Cass."

Smiling, Cassie turned round to greet her oldest friend, a stable boy named Farrell who had never turned his back on her. She passed him some of the food and they settled down on a hay bale to eat.

"Where's Cam?" Cassie asked through a mouthful of bread.

"In the food shed. Don't shout him, then we get his share."

"Don't be mean!" Cassie slapped him playfully, laughing at his beaming face half hidden by a mop of unruly brown hair. "Cam!" she shouted.

A slight teenager entered the barn, falling on the food like he hadn't eaten for days. The friends knew they had a short time together so quickly caught up on the village gossip, mainly the fact that Cam had seen Peter the blacksmith's son kissing Matilda, one of the kitchen maids, behind the barn.

As their laughter died away Cassie became serious, gripping a few strands of hay in her hands. "I have something to tell you." Both boys looked at her expectantly. Cassie took a deep breath. "I'm leaving."

There was a silence. Then, "What?" Farrell looked distraught.

"You know I was only staying to earn money so I could set up somewhere with my father. I have some saved now, and I'm so worried about him!" She looked at them, pleading with her eyes for them to understand. "For all I know he's lying in a gutter in Nottingham. I need to find him."

Cam snorted. "Sloane isn't goin' to let you just go on your merry way and live happily ever after. He won your pa's life in that gamble, an' as far as Sloane's concerned that includes you."

"That's why I'm running away." Cassie couldn't help but smile at the shocked looks on the faces of her friends. "But I need your help."

**XX**

The following night, Cassie lay awake in bed listening to the silence of the house. Once she was sure that everyone was asleep she slipped out of bed, already wearing breeches, a long sleeved shirt, and a warm tunic. Earlier that day she had smuggled the few belongings she was taking out to the barn, disguised in a basket, to be hidden by Farrell. There were only a few things left to take. Kneeling on the floor she moved her boots, revealing the floorboard underneath, which was a lot cleaner than the others. As quietly as possible she slipped the floorboard out of its position and pulled a few items from the space beneath.

First was a leather pouch filled with coins, the pay that she had been saving for weeks. Secondly, a jewelled necklace that her mother had worn on her wedding day, wrapped in cloth to protect it. Third was a small dagger, which her father had given to her on her eighteenth birthday. The final item was a silk scarf which her father had given to Mary as a present when she found out she was pregnant with Cassie. Holding the scarf to her nose she breathed in deeply, knowing her mother's sense was long gone but taking some comfort from it. She was doing the right thing.

Slipping the items into her pockets Cassie wrapped her cloak around herself and picked up her boots. She had left her bedroom door open so she didn't have to risk it creaking and slipped out onto the landing, her stockinged feet silent on the wooden floor. Descending the staircase she skipped the second and eighth steps, knowing they creaked, then followed the familiar route to the kitchen. She had offered to douse the fire that night, knowing that it would make her the last person in the kitchen, and had left the door ajar.

As soon as she was outside Cassie slipped on her worn leather boots, tucked the dagger into the righthand one, and ran swiftly to the barn. Farrell had left the door open for her so she entered in silence. "Psst!" she hissed, trying to attract his attention. Farrell's untidy head appeared over the door to her horse's stall and he looked at her with worried eyes. "Sure you want to do this?"

Cassie nodded with a nervous smile. "I'm sure."

Farrell nodded and exited the stall, leading the horse, Sorrel, who was already tacked up. Cassie smiled gratefully as she realised Farrell had already packed her things into two saddlebags and attached them to the tack. Slipping her valuables into an empty space she stepped back and looked at Farrell. "I suppose this is it."

"S'pose so." Farrell stared at the ground, his hands in his pockets, scraping the dusty floor with the toe of his boot.

Cassie was surprised to suddenly find a lump in her throat. "I'll see you again, Farrell."

"You better." He managed a smile. "You'd better get going."

Nodding, Cassie took the horse's reins and led her to the doors. Pausing, she turned round, and looked at Farrell. "Oh this is silly!" Dropping the reins she hurried back to Farrell, enveloped him in a hug, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I'll miss you."

"Me too. Take care of yourself, Cass."

Blinking back tears she gave him one last kiss and returned to the patient Sorrel and opened the barn door, only to freeze. Waiting outside, smirking at her, were two of Sloane's guards.

"Well, well. What do we have here," one of them drawled.

Cassie looked over her shoulder, sending Farrell a look of pure panic. The terror was reflected on his face, but as one of the guards moved forward to grasp Cassie's arm he snapped back to reality. "What're you waiting for! Go!"

She didn't need any more encouragement. Backing out of the reach of the guards Cassie swiftly mounted the horse. Farrell ran up behind her and handed her a broom, the nearest object that could be used as a weapon, then smacked the horse on the rump. Sorrel bolted forwards and as one of the guards grabbed hold of Cassie's foot she brought the handle of the broom down on his head with a satisfying thud.

Cassie couldn't help but shriek as an arrow whistled past her ear, shot by another guard further up the hill. As she urged the horse forward to freedom, a second arrow struck her arm. With a yell of pain she almost fell, but managed to keep her balance and was soon out of the village and galloping towards the forest.

She wanted to stop and do her best to bandage the wound but she didn't dare. Her escape had not gone as smoothly as she hoped, and she was terrified that she was being pursued. She knew that if she was caught her punishment would be severe. Before she knew it she was under the cover provided by the vast expanse of Sherwood Forest and utterly exhausted. Slumping forward and resting her head on the horse's neck she was asleep in an instant.

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**Author's Note:**

Chapter 3! Sorry for the large amounts of back story but I think it is important. Also apologies for the lack of our favourite outlaws but they will be back next chapter, complete with angsty Robin!

**ell** - thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying this, and that you like my OC. I'm always worried about them being too Mary Sueish!

Let me know what you think, good or bad...


	4. Anguish

**Chapter 4: Anguish**

Cassie wiped up the last of her stew with a piece of bread and popped it in her mouth. After she finished chewing she looked up at Robin, Much, Allan and John, all of whom had been staring at her since she finished her tale.

Robin was considering her story, trying to decide whether or not he believed her. A few months ago he would have believed her without hesitation, ensured her safe passage to a different town, found her father, and treated Sloane to some sweet revenge. But he had been betrayed since then and whilst he had welcomed Allan back to the gang, he was still wary of any newcomer. He didn't know if he could face the pain of betrayal again.

John believed the girl; he considered himself good judge of character. Being quiet had its benefits, as it meant he could watch and listen and learn to read people. He was already trying to work out a way to help her. He wasn't usually the plan-maker in the group but since Robin had retreated into his grief, John had become the pillar of strength keeping the gang going.

Allan was still sulking, unable to believe that he had been lied to and not realised. He thought she was telling the truth this time, but he was wary of her now. If he wasn't so suspicious he supposed he might fancy charming her with one of his smiles and a line of quick wit, but he was far too disgruntled to even think about it yet.

Much was just astounded that the slight girl had managed to devour two large bowls of stew and half a loaf of bread.

"That was delicious," Cassie beamed. "What was in it?"

"Squirrel," replied everyone except Much, who just scowled.

"Yum. My favourite." It was Much's turn to laugh, at everyone's shocked expressions.

"Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" Robin interrupted the laughter from his position leaning against the wall, arms folded. Everyone sighed, bored of his suspicion. 

"I didn't know if I could trust you did I? I did run away from a noble and attack that noble's guard! You might have turned me in."

"We are Robin Hood! We wouldn't have done that. Don't you know _anything_ about us?" Much asked.

"I know you help the poor. I'm not the poor am I? You hate nobles."

"Not all of 'em," Allan replied, eying Robin slyly, who rolled his eyes.

"We'll protect you from Sloane," he assured her. "We will ensure your safe passage to Scarborough in the morning; we can send you to Will's Aunt Annie, she will look after you." Decision made he turned away to return to his bunk.

"Begging your pardon, but I don't want safe passage in the morning," a soft but firm voice said behind him. Robin turned slowly whilst Allan's eyebrows shot upwards and Much choked on a mouthful of stew he had just taken. No-one ever contended Robin's decisions.

"What?" Robin asked eloquently, displeasure etched on his features.

Unwavering under the disbelieving stares Cassie stood from her stool. "I ran away so I could save my father, I have to stay in Nottingham until I find him. I was hoping that you'd help me, but even if you refuse I'm staying in Nottinghamshire."

Robin stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head violently. "No. You leave here in the morning. If you decide to go to Scarborough we will take you there, but if not then we cannot help you."

He exited the camp swiftly, emotions swirling in his mind. He felt guilty for abandoning the girl, but he was sick to death of stupid girls trying to please their fathers. Marian had stayed in the grasp of the Sheriff and Gisborne to protect her father, and it had led to her death. 

Robin kicked fiercely at the trunk of a sturdy oak. It was unyielding beneath his boot and he aimed a few more kicks, tears flooding his eyes as he began to hit at the trunk with his fists. The bark scratched and cut his hands but he didn't care, he couldn't feel the pain, his every nerve was consumed with anger and grief. He attacked the tree until his body sagged against it and he let the tears fall, his body heaving.

"I know you miss her." For the second time that night he was startled by a soft voice behind him. Turning he found Cassie watching him sadly. "Marian," she confirmed. "Much just told me."

Robin felt that familiar anger burning inside him as she spoke her name. Marian. He wanted to punch something, wanted something to break, needed something to suffer as much as he was. "It's not fair," he managed to bite out.

"I know its not," she replied quietly. "And I understand what it's like to lose someone that you love. But you can't let it consume you, Robin."

"What would you have me do? Forget she ever existed?" His voice was raw.

"No, but you have to come to terms with the fact that she's gone."

Robin stared at her. His first instinct was to snap at her that she had no right to tell him what to do, but he quickly realised that he needed guidance. He hadn't had this yet, this counsel and understanding of his grief. The gang had done their best but Allan did not have a clue how to comfort another man, John had been silent in his support, and Much never seemed to say the right words, telling him what he wanted to hear rather than what he needed to hear. 

"How?" was all he could manage in response.

"I can't tell you that Robin. But I can give you some advice." He looked at her expectantly. "Don't turn your back on everything good that you do. You committed yourself to helping the people, and from what I have been told she did everything she could to help you." She smiled at him encouragingly. "The people need you, Robin. England needs you. Continue in her memory, I think in your heart you know it's what she would want. Marian wouldn't want you to turn your back on all the good you do, even if it reminds you of her every day."

"I don't know if I can." His expression was anguished.

"You can. As long as you don't push away those that love you, that are here to help you. The men in that camp would do anything for you, Robin, and they will be strong for you. But they need you to lead." 

Cassie gazed at him, hoping that her words had helped him. He looked tortured, and she wanted to reassure him that everything would be alright, but she wasn't quite sure what else to say. She didn't know him after all. And those that knew him best were a group of men, and she was certain that they had been quite useless in helping him through his grief. 

She turned to walk back into camp, then changed her mind and swiftly crossed the space between her and Robin to wrap her arms around him. He was stiff at first, then slowly relaxed into the embrace and hugged her back, holding on to the back of her tunic with desperate fingers. "It's not fair," he mumbled into her shoulder and she squeezed him tighter. After a minute or two he broke the contact and tried to subtly wipe his damp eyes. Realising he needed a minute alone Cassie returned to the camp.

The three men inside looked up at her hopefully. She just shrugged and turned her attention to her belongings, which were in a heap on the floor. As she repacked the saddle bags Much frowned at her.

"Why are you packing? You don't have to leave now, at least sleep here tonight."

"Thank you, Much, but I'd rather leave now so I can approach Nottingham in the dark." She finished packing quickly and swung the load onto her shoulder. "Thank you for helping me," she said to Allan. "And thank you for the stew." She smiled gratefully at Much.

"Once you've eaten it for seven days in a row you won't be so grateful."

Everyone looked round to the source of the jibe. Robin was standing in the camp entrance. "Put your things down, you're staying here tonight. You can sleep in Will's bunk. In the morning we will go to Nottingham."

"We?" Cassie questioned.

"We will visit all the taverns, they are probably the best place to start looking for your father if he is as fond of ale as you suggested," Robin continued, ignoring her. "Once we find him we can take you both to Scarborough, Annie will find work for you."

Much was staring at him open mouthed. His master hadn't had such a sense of purpose since they returned from the Holy Land. John had allowed himself a slight smile; he knew the old Robin was still in there somewhere. Allan was grinning broadly.

"Not being funny mate, but that sounds a lot like a plan."

Robin's face twitched, and then reluctantly relaxed into a smile. Now they were all open mouthed; they hadn't seen Robin's grin in weeks. He forced his face back into authoritative seriousness. "Now get some sleep, we rise at dawn." With that he climbed into his bunk and turned his back to them, leaving three relieved men and a slightly bemused woman to follow his orders.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yay! Now all the explaining is out the way and we can get down to the action. And perhaps a bit of romance. Teeheehee.

**ell -** That will be all the angsty and sad Robin for a while I hope. He has an aim now so won't be able to mope around too much! And I don't want to give away the plot too much but I think Allan/Cassie are a pretty safe bet!


	5. The truth

**Chapter 5: The Truth**

The band of outlaws made it into Nottingham with little fuss and quickly split up. Only Cassie and John were to visit the taverns; they had realised that there was little point in the others going as only Cassie would be able to recognise her father. Robin, Much and Allan were to make deliveries to the families that they hadn't been to visit since they returned from the Holy Land. 

Hoods up, Cassie and John walked swiftly along the outer edge of the town. They planned to visit the alehouses on the outskirts first, as they were the dirtiest and the cheapest. Ducking down narrow alleyways they pulled scarves over their noses to protect against the stench, the filth on the ground staining the hems of their cloaks.

The beggars and paupers living in the grime tugged at Cassie's heart. Children ran barefoot through the dirt, dressed in little more than rags, dirty smears on their faces. Heart aching, Cassie gently tugged her cloak from the little hands that grasped at it in desperation. She took a little comfort from the knowledge that the others would be along soon to drop them some coins, and vowed that she would return as soon as she could with as much food as the gang could steal.

She felt a surge of anger toward the Sheriff for letting this happen a stones throw from where he lived in luxury, servants waiting on him, going to sleep with a full belly every night. However, her rage was not restricted to the Sheriff. Her resentment extended to the King – he had left England to rot whilst he fought a war on foreign soil, which she frankly saw as a complete mistake. Even when the King returned she was sure that Robin's ideal of every Englishman living in peace and prospering would not come true.

She wasn't about to breach that topic with the stubbornly loyal outlaw yet though.

They arrived at the first alehouse, a dingy shack that looked like it could collapse at any moment. Without a word John took up his guard position outside, leaning on his staff as if he were a haggard old man in need of the support. 

Slipping inside, Cassie almost gagged on the overwhelming stench of pipe smoke and ale. A drunkard staggered into her and she turned her head away, his breath a poisonous breeze against her cheek. Again she was overcome with pity for these men, trying to find the answers to their problems at the bottom of a tankard.

It was with some relief that she found no sign of her father. He wasn't in the next either, or the next.

"This is hopeless," Cassie groaned after the eighth attempt. John clapped his hand on her shoulder in a move that she supposed was meant to be comforting, but that actually left her with a bruise.

"There's still one more," he replied. "We have just enough time before we need to meet the others."

"The Trip?"

He nodded. "Just be careful, it's right next to the castle. It'll be full of guards."

As they set off both outlaws simultaneously pulled their hoods lower, hiding their faces in shade. Arriving at the Trip to Jerusalem Inn Cassie ducked inside, quickly surveying the inn from underneath her hood. The main room was hollowed into the cliff itself, and full of guards sitting at small tables throwing dice and taking deep swallows from tankards of ale.

There was no sign of her father, but she walked through the room to the far side to be sure. Stepping outside again she found herself in a small, empty courtyard. Taking a deep breath of fresh air before returning to the tavern, she heard the word "Stonewell."

Stiffening, Cassie pressed her back against the wall and tried to become invisible. Shuffling sideways she peered cautiously around the corner, and found a group of three guards at a table.

"High stakes, you said?" asked one squeaky, pubescent voice.

"Yeah," a more gruff tone replied. "Sloane said to invite the usual crowd. Tomorrow night, Stonewell Manor."

"Dice or cards?" Squeaky questioned.

"Dice I think. 'e reckons 'e's lucky at that, won his fortune in a dice game didn't 'e?" Gruff responded with a chuckle.

"Took the lot off old Henry didn't he? Poor old blighter," a new, more sympathetic voice added.

"'ad it coming 'e did!" Gruff grunted. Cassie tensed. "Against the Sheriff, wasn't 'e? No surprise the Sheriff helped Sloane get rid of him."

Cassie's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she bit her lower lip to stop herself from squeaking. She had had no idea that the Sheriff was involved in Sloane taking over Stonewell.

"What happened?" Squeaky asked. Cassie risked another peek and saw a pimply youth wide-eyed with interest. Gruff leaned forward and beckoned him closer to whisper conspiratorially.

"Well, old Henry wasn't much of a gambler was 'e? Clean as a whistle 'e was. Wouldn't do a thing to damage his girl's reputation. But 'e backed the King so 'e 'ad to go." Gruff paused to take a swig of ale. "Sheriff knew Sloane would do anything 'e asked if 'e gave him power, so 'e gave him money to gamble. Sloane started off small, tempting Henry with the odd coin, letting him win every time. Lulled him into a false sense of security, so 'e did. And every time they had a gamble, Sloane gave 'im a drink. Got him hooked on the ale. Let him win big, then when he was drunk Henry got cocky. Gambled the estate. Sloane won, o' course, an' took the lot."

Squeaky's jaw was practically on the table. "What happened to Henry?"

Gruff shrugged, but Sympathetic looked somewhat sorrowful. "He's living down in old Beggar's End, not a penny to his name. Will do anything for a pint of ale, can't do without it now." Cassie felt a few tears drift down her cheeks. "It's a sad tale."

Gruff snorted. "Like I said, 'e 'ad it coming."

Anger surged through her veins. Her hand, which had been resting lightly on the hilt of her sword, clenched the handle. It was half unsheathed when a hand clamped around her mouth.

She let out a scream but it was muffled by the fingers pressed against her lips. As her captor pulled her backwards into his body she aimed a well-placed elbow into his stomach. He grunted in pain and the hand loosened but didn't let go.

"Calm down wildcat! It's me!" a vaguely familiar voice hissed in her ear. Twisting her head Cassie found herself nose to nose with Allan. "I'm not going to let you go unless you promise not to launch yourself at those blokes, they'll kill you!"

Angry, she bit at his hand and he withdrew it with a gasp. She tried to wrench herself away from him but his grip on her waist tightened and he caught hold of one of her wrists with his free hand.

"Allan, they're talking about my father! I'm going to kill them!" she whispered furiously. "And then I'm going to kill the Sheriff, he was behind it Allan, he was behind all of it!" She was crying now, and he pulled her into him, more to muffle her sobs than to comfort her.

"I heard, Cass, I heard," he whispered into her hair. "And we'll get him for it, I promise you. But two against a tavern full isn't great odds, not even with my immense fighting skills." He was rewarded with a hiccupy laugh as she raised her head. Allan placed a finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up, looking down at her honestly. "We need to meet the others, and we'll make a plan, and we'll get our revenge, right?"

She nodded and he slowly released her, relieved when she didn't try to get away from him. The anger seemed to have subsided, leaving a sad, scared girl in the place of the fierce wildcat she had been. Grasping her hand he pulled her out of a side entrance, hurrying to meet John before he got worried.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ahhh the thought of protective Allan makes me happy.

Anyway. Just to let you know updates might not be as frequent for the next few weeks as I'm on easter vacation, so I will either be relaxing or panicking over the dissertation I have to write. It also means that I am at home, fighting over our rubbish old PC with my mum dad and sister!

**Soapy-Liedown** - I'm glad you liked it! Its funny you should mention Will and Djaq, as originally they were going to make an appearance. However, I have now planned out a trilogy rather than one mega-fic, so they won't be in this story but they will be in the series. That is, as long as people like it enough for me to write two sequels!

**gatewatcher** - New reader! Yay! Allan will definitely be her interest...but we'll see how long it takes for him to realise!

Anyone else who is reading this, please let me know what you think!


	6. Beggar's End

**Chapter 6: Beggar's End**

"There you are!" Robin hissed, half relieved and half angry as Allan, Cassie and John hurried down the road to their designated meeting place at the southern gate. "We've been here too long, we need to leave. Now."

"I have to tell you something first," Cassie whispered urgently.

"Tell us back at the camp," Robin snapped, turning to leave.

Allan reached out, his hand landing on Robin's sleeve, causing the outlaw to stop and stare at the former traitor. "It's important, Robin. It can't wait." Robin considered him for a long moment then, expelling a sigh and casting a furtive glance at the guards manning the gate, beckoned the group to follow him.

They slipped behind the nearest building and ducked into the shadows, John automatically taking a guard position at the corner of the building. Robin looked from Allan to Cassie. "This had better be important. Now tell me, quickly."

"It was the Sheriff!" Cassie blurted. "He wanted to get rid of my father, he knew he supported the King. So he gave Sloane money, and he turned my father into a drunkard!"

The outlaws stared at her blankly.

"Sloane was a puppet; the Sheriff knew that if he made him Lord of Stonewell, he would do anything the Sheriff asked," Allan continued, seeing that the others were confused by Cassie's angry tale. "To get rid of Henry, Sloane started gambling with him, and giving him ale. The Sheriff gave him the money to do so. Sloane made sure he lost every time so Henry thought he was good at dice, and one night Sloane got him so drunk Henry agreed to gamble the estate. Sloane won, and took everything. I bet he cheated."

"You'd know," Much muttered. Allan glared at him.

"It was the Sheriff's fault!" Cassie said again. "I never knew, I thought it was all Sloane. I should have known better, he's stupid, would never have thought up that plan on his own." She looked expectantly at Robin. "So what are we going to do?"

Robin looked at her blankly. "Do? Cassie, I'm sorry this happened, but what _can_ we do?"

Allan gaped at his leader, still unused to this new, passive Robin. All his anger was aimed at Gisborne now, he was so consumed in his rage that he seemed to have no energy left to fight for the cause. He glanced at Cassie. She looked devastated, but as he watched her face changed to one of anger. As she opened her mouth to shout at Robin, Allan stayed her with a hand and turned to his leader.

"Robin, think about it. Sloane must have a load of money hoarded away. And he's having a high stakes dice game at the Manor tomorrow night. Lots of nobles with very deep pockets…"

To his surprise, Much contributed to his cause. "Master, think of all that money! We can take it, give it to the poor, and get revenge on Sloane at the same time."

"I reckon Sloane will have weighted the dice," Allan continued. "He'll win everything, and no doubt be planning on sending it back to the Sheriff. We take it, we stop the Sheriff getting it, and there you have it. Revenge on him too, quicker than you can say outlaw."

Robin was staring at him. Allan attempted his winning smile, but it quickly faltered. Then, slowly, it was as if some fire in Robin's eyes was sparked. Allan could almost see his brain processing the plan, assessing it for both quality of purpose and potential rate of success. "How does that sound to you?" he asked Cassie.

"Perfect," she replied hopefully. "But we need to get my father to safety first, in case it goes wrong."

Robin nodded. "We should do it now. Did you find out where he is?" Cassie nodded. Robin was about to ask John to go with her when he noticed the way Allan was looking at the girl. He was still wary of the man; no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible to forget the betrayal he had suffered; but his instinct was that he could be trusted with both Cassie and the task. "Allan, go with her. Be as quick as you can, we need to leave as soon as possible."

Allan looked slightly surprised at being trusted with the mission, but was glad that he would be there to stop the headstrong girl doing anything idiotic.

Without a word the two outlaws raised their hoods and slipped into the nearest alley, heading for Beggars End. It was in the furthest eastern corner of the town and perhaps the poorest, dingiest part. Here there were no houses, not even ramshackle huts; just piles of sticks designed to provide shelter from the wind. The inhabitants were stained with dirt, their clothes filthy rags hanging from protruding bones.

As they approached Allan felt Cassie falter, her steps no longer matching his. He grasped her hand in comfort, not letting her see that his other hand was clutching his sword. Even he had never been down here before, but he had heard tales, and was somewhat nervous about what they might find.

"Do you see him?" he whispered, hoping that they could grab him and go. He didn't wish to linger; there was already a toothless man leering at them, and a waif of a child tottering through the mud to beg a coin from them.

Cassie shook her head and gripped his hand tighter as they stepped further into the filth. Then, with a sharp inhalation of breath, she spotted him.

Allan heard the gasp and felt the bones in his hand constrict as she squeezed it tightly. Trying to subtly remove his crushed fingers from her grip, he followed her gaze and almost choked. Allan did not often feel pity; he had little empathy, even with the poor. But the sight of a man half passed out in a trough of pure filth, his grey hair matted and skin sallow, an empty jug clenched in his fist, made his heart constrict.

Before he could stop her Cassie was at her father's side, shaking him, trying to wake him up. Allan followed her, nervously eying the people nearby who were looking with interest at the spectacle. Some of them were beginning to approach. One hand still on his sword, eyes alert for danger, he tapped her on the shoulder. "We need to go," he whispered. "Sharpish."

"Help me then," she hissed back, but her attempt at annoyance was belied by the tears that choked her voice.

Allan dragged the prone man to his feet, slinging one of his thin arms around his neck. Cassie ducked under his other arm, taking half the weight, and they hastened back the way they had come, half dragging the unconscious man.

As soon as they were out of sight of Beggars End Allan let the dead weight drop to the floor and bent over, panting. Cassie was on her knees again, desperately trying to wake her father. His eyelids flickered slightly and Allan, desperate to get them all to safety, took a pail of water from a passing woman and threw it into Henry's face.

Cassie glared up at him but it had worked, and Henry came round, spluttering as he did so. Pulling him to his feet once more Allan shook him impatiently and quickly cut Cassie off before she could complain. "We need him to walk on his own, otherwise we'll arouse suspicion, right?"

"Right," she agreed begrudgingly, before whispering to her father. Allan wasn't sure what she said but it worked; in less than a minute, the three of them were proceeding towards the gate. Henry stumbled every few steps but without breaking stride they were joined by the other outlaws and were soon out of the town and hastening for the safety of the forest.

**XX**

Allan slumped by the fire, exhausted. It had been a very long morning; in fact, it had been a very long night. Henry was addicted to ale, there was no doubt about it, but the outlaws had none to give him. They couldn't even wean him off the drink; he had to go from being dependent upon it, to constantly sober. The scenes during the night had been ugly; Henry shouting, Cassie pleading with him to calm down. Henry throwing things, Cassie crying. He passed out at intervals and the outlaws had managed to snatch sleep, only to be woken by a yell, or the sound of Henry crashing around trying to escape the camp.

It was with sorrow that in the hours before dawn Cassie had conceded to allow Robin and John to tie the irate man down to a bunk. He was a danger not only to them, but to himself, and it had been the only option. He had protested so furiously at first that Allan had been half worried the Sheriff would be able to hear him from the castle, but now he was sleeping and the outlaws were enjoying a few moments of peace.

Except Cassie. She was curled up on her bunk, watching her father, tears drifting from her eyes. Allan could not imagine how hard it must be for her to see a man she so loved and respected, a man who had once been a proud, generous, kindly noble, reduced to a madman that had to be restrained.

Allan was relived when Robin entered the camp and announced that they needed to set off for Stonewell, as action was sure to distract her. It was the day of the dice game, and they had to leave if they were to reach the estate by nightfall.

"Someone needs to stay behind," Robin said as he slung his bow and quiver onto his back. "Cassie?"

"No, you need me," she replied as she jumped down from her bunk. "I can show you how to get into Stonewell, and where the money will be kept."

Robin nodded in acquiescence and turned to his loyal friend. "Much?"

Much sighed; he had expected this. Tossing his shield back onto the floor he sank down onto a stool, folding his arms in annoyance. If he was honest he didn't mind staying behind; someone had to look after Henry, and he had more patience than Allan as well as being less inclined than John to want to go and sort out a problem. He just wished that for once Robin would say that he wanted him with him, that he was needed.

He was placated moments later when Cassie crouched before him and gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Much. I know you will take good care of him."

Robin managed not to laugh at the satisfied smile that spread across Much's face; instead, he waved a farewell and led the rest of the gang out into the forest and towards Stonewell.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, the good news is that I managed to get a chapter up a lot quicker than I thought I would. Firstly, it is because I will do anything to avoid writing my dissertation. Secondly, I got inspiration today because I went to Nottingham Castle and saw the Robin Hood TV exhibition! It is pretty cool, but there was one thing that really made me laugh. They have these mannequins of all the main characters and what was Will wearing? Converse! Converse trainers! I didn't know they had those in medieval times.

Anyway, despite the comedy, I enjoyed it and like I said it has inspired me! Not only have I written this chapter, I have planned out the sequel to this fic.

And then the day got even better! My best friend, who I went with, is obsessed with Doctor Who; I've never watched it. But she showed me the two Harry Lloyd episodes, which I really enjoyed. So I have had a Robin Hood/Harry Lloyd day and it had been excellent!

Thank you so much for the reviews so far, and thanks to Soapy-Liedown and gatewatcher for reviewing the last chapter!


	7. Robbing the rich

**Chapter 7: Robbing the rich**

Robin, John, Allan and Cassie lay flat on their stomachs in the late afternoon sunshine, peering over the brow of the bank they were hidden behind. Stonewell was bustling with activity as villagers made the most of the last light of the day. As the sun slowly sank below the horizon the villagers began to disappear into their homes and lights sprang up in the windows as fires were lit.

Cassie stifled a yawn as the sky turned inky blue. She was bored out of her wits. A sharp elbow in the ribs soon distracted her.

"Ouch! What did you do that for?" She glared at Allan, who had directed the elbow at her.

"Look!" he hissed back, pointing over the ridge.

Two men draped in cloaks of expensive cloth were approaching on horseback. Within a few minutes another four nobles had followed them into Stonewell.

"Hopefully their pockets will be a lot lighter when they return," Robin said quietly.

"And what do we do until they come back?" Cassie asked.

"We wait."

Cassie groaned, flipping over onto her back and closing her eyes. After another long hour Robin and John slipped away to spy through the windows of the manor and see how the game was progressing, leaving a dozing Cassie and a bored Allan.

The outlaw tried to entertain himself with the small knife he kept on him and a chunk of wood he found on the floor, but he quickly tired of it. He was nothing like Will, who could entertain himself for hours with a blade and some timber. As he scanned the area for something else to play with his eyes landed on Cassie and his lips twitched into a mischievous grin.

Pulling up a long, slender blade of grass he ran the end of it slowly down her nose. Her nose twitched, but she didn't wake. Trying not to laugh Allan tickled the blade of grass over her cheeks in lazy circles, barely touching her skin with it. Raising her hand Cassie scratched at her cheek in her sleep. Allan had to clap a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from bellowing with laughter as he moved the grass down over her neck.

Cassie's hand swatted absently at his hand, then her fingers clenched tightly around his wrist as her eyes opened. "I'll get you for that," she growled.

Springing up with a swiftness that surprised him she tackled him to the ground and pinned his arms down with her knees.

"Gerroff me!" Allan grunted.

"Not until you apologise!" she replied.

"Never!"

Cassie responded by attacking him with her fingers, tickling him mercilessly through his leather tunic. Allan yelped and twitched beneath her, before managing to throw her off. As he scrambled to pin her down in return a throat was cleared pointedly behind them. The two outlaws stood up sheepishly, dusting the grass and dirt from their clothes.

"Seems to be only one guard," Robin informed them as John tried to conceal his smile at their antics. "And Sloane has got a massive pile of coins in a chest at the side of him. As soon as the gamblers have left we go to the house and wait until everyone's asleep."

The others nodded and once more settled down to wait.

**XX**

"Shh!" Robin hissed as Allan tripped over a tree root and cursed loudly. The final noble had finally departed, swaying on his horse from drinking too much wine, and the outlaws were making their way to the village. They were soon gliding through the shadows until they reached the manor house, quickly taking up their prearranged positions.

John took up his stance near the entrance, keeping an eye on the guard, whilst Allan and Cassie took a side of the house each. They peered through each window, trying to see if anyone was still awake downstairs. Robin, meanwhile, swiftly scaled a tree outside the window that Cassie had pointed out as being Sloane's.

They met up again at John's watch point.

"No-one's awake downstairs," Cassie whispered, and Allan nodded his agreement.

"Sloane's fast asleep and snoring," Robin supplied the important news. "John?"

Without a word the big man disappeared round the corner. The guard had been knocked out with a swift blow from his staff before he even saw his assailant coming. John dragged the man behind a bush and beckoned the others.

Slipping into the house Cassie took the lead, as they padded down the stone corridors. She led them to a room at the back of the house, where eight chairs were set around a sturdy wooden table. The table was littered with remnants of the gambling game; a few goblets, and empty flagon of wine, and a pair of dice.

As Cassie opened the door to a cupboard on the back wall Allan picked up the dice and inspected them, rattled them near his ear, and then rolled them on the table. The others all winced as the clatter of dice upon wood echoed in the silent room.

"Weighted," Allan declared. "Cheating git." As the others turned back to the cupboard he grinned and slipped them into his pocket.

Cassie lifted a pile of papers, a few empty leather sacks, and a wooden box out of the cupboard, handing them to John. As the others watched, bemused, she reached a hand into the bottom of the cupboard and rummaged around. After a few seconds she grinned triumphantly. "Aha!" There was a soft click and with a grating sound the back of the cupboard moved sideways until a further space behind it was revealed.

"Crafty," Allan whispered, impressed.

Robin reached into the space at the back of the cupboard and dragged out a heavy wooden chest. Setting it on the table he dispatched the lock with a swift blow of the small hatchet hanging at his waist and opened the lid, grinning at the huge pile of gold gleaming inside.

"Here," Cassie whispered, handing him the empty leather sacks that had been in the cupboard. As quickly and quietly as he could Robin poured the gold into four of the sacks, handing one to each of the outlaws. He replaced the empty chest, dragged the back of the cupboard back into place, and returned the box and papers before closing the cupboard.

"Job done," he announced, satisfied. "Lets go."

As the men turned to leave Cassie caught hold of Robin's sleeve. "Sloane has another hiding place, upstairs. I'm going to go see if there's anything there."

"We'll all go," Robin replied.

"That's not a good idea. Its right next to Sloane's room, four of us would make too much noise."

Robin considered the idea. "Fine, you go. But Allan, you go with her. And no arguments," he added as Cassie opened her mouth to protest. "Meet us back at the hiding place."

Cassie and Allan nodded in agreement, though Allan eyed the girl suspiciously.

As soon as Robin and John had slipped out of the house, carrying the sacks of stolen gold, and disappeared into the shadows Allan grabbed Cassie by the arm and span her round to face him.

"What are you up to Cass?"

"I don't know what you mean," she replied, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Don't act innocent with me!" Allan smirked at her. "Remember who you're talking to. I stayed behind enough times before…" He faltered, not wanting to mention his treachery. He settled for, "Before the Holy Land. Took a few coins, the odd bit of jewellery for meself once the others had taken the rest for the poor. So what's the plan? You want to pocket some of the takings for yourself, or is this about getting some revenge on old Sloane?"

"Neither," she replied. "Come on." Pulling herself from his grip she left the room. Allan went after her, bemused, as she left the manor, aiming a swift kick at the guard still slumped on the floor. Allan followed Cassie as she glided through the shadows on quiet feet until she reached the stable.

"Oh no you don't," Allan hissed, grabbing hold of her once more as he realised what she was doing. "Robin will go mental! Do you want to get caught?"

"I'm not going to get caught!" she hissed back. "I just need to check on Farrell and Cam, and give them this." She held up a leather pouch, bulging with coins.

"Cassie…" Allan whispered warningly.

Ignoring him she wrenched her arm from his grip and slipped through the stable door. Muttering under his breath Allan glanced around quickly before going after her. He followed her up the aisle of the stable, past the sleepy horses, until she ducked into an empty stall on the left and scrambled up a ladder.

Allan waited at the bottom, ears alert to anyone approaching, still cursing the headstrong girl under his breath. Robin was no doubt going to blame him for this, and he could really do without another roasting from his leader.

A gasp came from up the ladder. "Shh, Cam, it's me!" he heard Cassie whisper urgently. "Where's Farrell?"

"He…didn't you hear?" came the sleepy voice of a teenage boy.

"Where is he, Cam?" Allan could sense the panic creeping into her voice.

"He, er, went away." Allan snorted; the boy was a useless liar.

"Don't lie to me! What's happened?" She sounded desperate now.

"The guards, they came and took him away." Cam gulped. "They hanged him, Cass."

Allan was up the ladder in an instant. Cassie was standing, hands clenched at her sides, staring at Cam. Even in the dim light he could see that her face was pale, drained of blood. Reaching out he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort, but she didn't even notice he was there.

"You're lying," she said at last, her voice hollow. "Stop lying to me!"

"I'm not lying!" Cam protested. "Sloane was furious when you escaped, absolutely raging. You shoulda seen it Cass, you'd 'av loved to 'av seen him in such a fury. He wanted to know what 'ad happened, an' the guards that saw you escape…they told him Farrell helped you to save their own skin. Sloane woulda had them swingin' from the gallows if they hadn't landed Farrell in it."

"When did it happen?" Cassie asked, her voice still quiet and empty.

"At midday yesterday. Public it was, whole village was there."

Allan felt Cassie tense beneath his hand. "So whilst I was running around in Nottingham acting the hero, Farrell was dying."

"You didn't know, Cass," Allan tried to reassure her. Cassie suddenly realised he was there and shrugged his hand off her shoulder.

"What did they do with the body?"

"Cassie…"

"What did they do with it?" she snapped, her voice furious.

"Erm…" Cam bit his lip nervously, obviously not wanting to answer the question. "Left it hanging." He shrugged apologetically. "Warning to the rest of the village."

With a word Cassie turned and disappeared down the ladder. Allan sighed wearily, rubbing a tired hand over his forehead. It seemed all he had been doing recently was chasing after her. "Is she always like this?" he asked Cam.

"'fraid so," the stable boy replied.

Sighing again Allan followed her down the ladder. The stable door was already swinging closed and with a groan he ran for the door, leaving the stable to see a dark shadow disappear around a distant corner. Running through the village on quiet feet the gallows soon came into view, an eerie silhouette in the waning moonlight. A hooded figure swung from the rope.

"Cassie!" Allan hissed. A shadow moved at the base of the gallows and as he got closer he saw her hauling herself up onto the platform. Lunging forward he caught hold of her ankles. "Oh no you don't!" he grunted, hauling her back down.

"Get off me!" She lashed out, scratching at his face with her fingernails, but he didn't loosen his hold.

"Cassie, we have to get out of here! Robin will be going crazy with worry, and what if Sloane realises he's been robbed before we escape?"

"I don't care."

"Well I do! I'm sorry your friend is dead, Cass, but I'd rather not be joining him at the noose."

"Then go! No one is asking you to stay. But I refuse to just leave him to the birds. Everyone deserves some dignity in death."

Allan's mind briefly flicked back to a similarly slim figure in patched clothes and worn boots swinging from the gallows. He had not been able to give Tom a befitting burial, and the image of him hanging had haunted him ever since that day.

"Just hurry up," he hissed, letting her go. Cassie scrambled up onto the gallows and in seconds had cut the rope. Allan helped her lower the heavy body to the ground before heaving it up and over his shoulder.

A few minutes later they were out of the village and hurrying towards the meeting place. Allan let out a low whistle as they approached and two heads popped up over a low bank.

"There you are!" Robin hissed. "Do you mind telling me where in God's name you've been?"

"No time," Allan panted. "I'll explain later. John, help me."

Without asking questions the tall man relieved Allan of the heavy load he carried and the band of outlaws turned as one, hastening towards the forest. They were almost at the first wave of trees when the shrill clanging of a bell sounded behind them.

"The alarm bell!" Cassie looked round at them in terror. "They've found the empty chests. Run!"

**XX**

Cassie stared into the flames of the roaring fire, wishing they could warm her. The camp was cosy but she still felt cold, numb… Her father was a wreck, sleeping fitfully in the corner, and her oldest, closest friend was dead. Because of her. They had managed to avoid the pursuit from Stonewell and had brought his body to the shelter of the forest, laying it to rest in a clearing beneath the branches of a proud, tall oak tree. The burial seemed inadequate for such a faithful friend, yet suited a boy whose life had been simple. There was no need for splendour, illusions of grandeur; Farrell would not have wanted it.

During the years of the ruthless Sheriff's reign she had heard the words "I hate the Sheriff" spill from the lips of many peasants, as their last coins were consumed by taxation, as precious family heirlooms were taken in lieu of taxes as they had no money left to give. She had seen children die because their desperate parents could not afford a loaf of bread to feed them, seen people lose hands and tongues for acting against the cruel regime. But never had she felt their pain as acutely as she did now, never had hatred so consumed her insides and made her desperate for revenge.

She hated the Sheriff.

A clatter roused her from her thoughts and she looked up to see Much red-faced and picking up the pieces of a clay pot he had knocked to the floor. His stuttered apology brought a small smile to her lips, and she looked around the fire to see the other outlaws staring at her.

"Is there something on my face?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with her sleeve in case there was a lingering bit of food from dinner.

Robin shook his head, then stood, straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. Allan, John and Much now turned their gaze to him – when Robin cleared his throat, it meant that there was something important to be said.

"John and Allan will take you and Henry to Scarborough in the morning," he informed her. "We will give you coins and food to take with you, and Annie will look after you."

Cassie nodded reluctantly. Her plan all along had been to secure a future for herself and her father, but now it came to actually leaving she was filled with sorrow. The camp somehow seemed like home already, and the men that lived in it were brave and loyal, fighting for the future of England. She was proud to know them as friends. But it was time to go, and she needed to pack. "Thank you," she said quietly, standing.

"However," Robin continued, "There is another option." Holding up a fist he uncurled his fingers, revealing something lying upon his palm. Cassie took a step closer to see what it was, then gasped as she saw the simple engraving of a bow and arrow upon a sliver of wood. Robin grinned. "You could join us."

She stared at him in shock, then looked back down at the tag. Her gaze drifted to Much, who was grinning; to John, who nodded reassuringly; to Allan, who shrugged. Finally her eyes found her father and she stared at him for a long moment, loyalty to him warring with her desire to stay. She turned back to Robin.

"I will join," she told him, surprised to find that her voice was shaky with emotion as tears welled in her eyes. Robin proffered the tag and she took it with trembling fingers, slipping the cord over her head so the wood rested on her tunic. "I hate the Sheriff; he will pay for what he's done to me, my father, Nottingham." She swallowed, trying to stop the tears from spilling onto her cheeks. "And I will avenge Farrell's death, if it's the last thing I do."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry that this took so long to get up! Its a nice long update though so hopefully that will make up for it, and the next chapter is pretty much ready to go in the next few days.

Hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think!


	8. Remembering

**Chapter 8: Remembering **

A few weeks later the mood in the camp was one of satisfaction. Deliveries had been made that day, and the grateful expressions on the faces of the villagers were hovering in the minds of the outlaws. Whilst they hadn't pulled off any impressive heists or dangerous rescues recently, there had been a constant supply of gold and goods to give to the villagers from a string of successful ambushes. And none of them had paid a visit to the Nottingham Castle dungeons, which Allan felt was quite an achievement for them all.

In fact, they hadn't come across the Sheriff and Gisborne at all. It was hard to know what they were planning without Marian as their inside source, but everything seemed quite calm. Although the outlaws were still concerned about the Black Knights there was no immediate threat that they knew of, so for the time being they were content with supplying the villagers so they would all be able to survive the winter.

Allan sat in the camp, one hand resting on his full belly. He was particularly satisfied by the meal they had just eaten, as it had consisted of a deer which he had managed to shoot. Every time he killed a deer he was reminded of those early days, when Robin had saved him, and couldn't help but ponder on how far he had come since then.

Those first few months had been filled with excitement, the thrill of feeling invincible as they cheated capture, torture and death in a variety of ingenious ways. Allan felt ashamed that for him it had all been about the adventure, the buzz he got when he managed to lie himself out of danger. He had never been particularly concerned about the fate of the people; he gave them the gold and the cloth and the food because that was what he had to do, but the stealing of the items had been far more enjoyable than the giving of them. He had been selfish, he knew that now; all he had wanted to do was secure his own life, his own freedom, and pocket whatever extras he could.

Then there had been the unsavoury time as a spy, a traitor. It made him sick to think of it now; truth be told, he had felt sick with guilt at the time, every time a betrayal had spilled from his lips. He wasn't sure anymore why he had done it. At the time he had been so sure of himself, so sure that it was the best path for him – now he knew he had been a total, complete idiot.

When Robin and the others had accepted him back it had felt like a massive weight had been removed from his shoulders. The guilt and regret still weighed heavily on his mind but every time he helped them with an ambush, every time he dropped coins into the hands of a worried mother or handed a loaf of bread to a skinny waif of a child, his guilt abated a little. Now he smiled back when someone smiled gratefully at him, and felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw someone dressed in new clothes instead of rags.

Allan shook his head, trying to stop the tender thoughts from entering his mind. He was still Allan A Dale after all, arrogant, cheeky, and a talented liar. He was just…softer somehow. Gentler. More tolerant of fools.

Briefly pondering whether or not he should tell a crude joke to prove that he was still Allan, he noticed Cassie slip from the camp, otherwise unnoticed. Now he was caught in indecision – did he leave her be, or play the knight in shining armour and follow her in case she needed him? He was sure Cassie wouldn't appreciate his chivalry – she certainly didn't strike him as the damsel in distress type – but he felt a certain protectiveness towards her. She seemed a lot more vulnerable than Djaq ever had.

Thinking of Cassie he felt a stirring in his stomach. Deciding it must have been because Much hadn't cooked the deer properly, Allan grabbed his sword and left the camp, buckling the sword belt securely around his waist.

**XX**

Cassie walked swiftly through the forest, grasping the handle of the sword that rested at her hip. A smile played across her lips as she heard Allan curse softly behind her as he tripped over a tree root. He certainly wasn't the stealthiest outlaw – she had been aware of his presence within minutes of leaving camp. Coming into a clearing she stopped walking. The sound of pursuit stopped soon after.

"Allan, you can come out now," she called softly. He emerged from behind a tree and stepped into a clearing, looking at her sheepishly. Laughing she beckoned him forwards and started walking again, so he fell into step beside her. They walked in silence, Allan desperate to speak but sensing that an offhand comment would not be appreciated.

After clambering up onto a ridge and dropping down on the other side they soon entered another clearing. Allan realised where they were as his eyes came to rest on the mound of earth in the centre, headed by a simple wooden cross. Farrell's grave.

He felt intrusive suddenly, guilty for intruding on her visit to her old friend. He made to leave but she reached out and grasped his fingers, surprising both of them.

"Please stay."

Allan nodded and remained standing next to her, his presence a comforting warmth. After several long minutes of silence Cassie spoke.

"I met him when I was five," she said quietly. "He and his mother had moved from Nettlestone after his father died, as his uncle was in charge of the stable and offered him a job as a stable boy. He was only eight. I remember going into the barn one day and he didn't know who I was, he was in the loft and he dropped a pile of hay on my head." She grinned. "He thought he was going to get a right hiding when he realised my father was Lord Henry, but I thought it was funny so I never told."

Allan didn't know what to say, possibly for the first time in his life. He settled for giving her hand a squeeze.

"We were inseparable from then. I used to follow him around when he was doing his chores, and eventually he let me help. Whenever he was free we would play in the hay loft, or duel with wooden swords, or paddle in the stream and collect frogspawn. He was forever taking animals home, it used to send his mum half-crazed. Always rescuing injured birds or saving mice from the stable cats."

Allan gripped her hand tighter as he heard her sniffle, knowing that she had started to cry. He marvelled at the fondness in her voice – had he ever cared that much about another human being? The old Allan would have said no, but he knew that no matter how much strife Tom had caused him he had loved his little brother. The gang, too, were like his family now.

"Was he your first love?"

Cassie was silent and for a moment he thought he had gone too far, but then she swatted him playfully with her free hand. "No."

"First kiss?"

She stayed silent but Allan turned to look at her and caught a smirk turning up the corner of her mouth. "He was! Ooh you're a dark horse Cassie Layton."

They returned to their comfortable silence for a few more minutes until something seemed to pass over Cassie. Giving herself a slight shake she straightened, pulled her hand from Allan's grasp, and wiped the tear stains from her cheeks. Turning to Allan she whispered "Thank you" and then without another word turned and headed back to camp.

**XX**

The following day Cassie requested to take a delivery to Stonewell. She knew she wasn't supposed to go there any more but her time at Farrell's graveside had given her a longing for home, and a need to see Cam and make sure he was still alright.

Robin granted his permission and sent John with her. As he kept watch outside the barn she slipped inside but returned soon after, worry etched across her face.

"He isn't here, John." Her voice cracked with fear. "No-one knows where he is."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Another chapter done! Only five days til the dissertation is in too (panic!) so after that I'll have a lot more time to write.

Also, I have planned the sequel which I'm really excited about!! Will is going to make a comeback!

**gatewatcher**, thanks for the reviews, they keep me writing!! And if anyone else wants to let me know what they think that would be fantastic.


	9. Ambush

**Chapter 9: Ambush**

"Robin! Master!" Much's yell disturbed the quiet of the forest as he came running towards the camp, stumbling and tripping over tree roots and fallen branches in his haste. Robin and John stood as Cassie looked up from the trousers she was darning, and Allan, who had been dozing, awoke with a start.

Much skidded to a stop, bending over as he panted. "There's…someone…" he gasped. "Someone in the trap!"

The gang moved into action seamlessly, shouldering weapons and following Robin before splitting up and moving into position stealthily, forming a circle around the trap. A man dangled from a tree, ankles tied by a rope.

"Who are you?" Robin asked, an arrow nocked and pointed at the intruder.

"A villager!" the man replied, his voice trembling. "A villager from Clun. I come to ask for your help."

Robin considered him for a long moment. He looked innocent and did not appear to be armed. He nodded at Cassie. "Cut him down."

The girl scrambled up onto the lower branches of the tree, pulling a dagger from her boot and slicing through the rope. John stood below the man, lowering him to the ground to prevent him from falling on his head.

The man staggered as he tried to stand, as the blood had rushed to his head whilst he hung upside down. The gang waited for him to recover before Robin became impatient.

"You said you want our help."

"Yes," the man replied, looking at Robin imploringly. "I come on behalf of the village of Clun. One of our men has been arrested for thieving. He is due to hang at dawn."

"What did he steal?"

"A brace of rabbits."

A murmur rippled through the group. "The noose? For stealing a couple of rabbits?" Allan voiced their disbelief.

The man shuffled his feet slightly. "He took them from Gisborne."

Robin tensed, as the others eyed each other nervously. They were not surprised that Gisborne would assign such cruel punishment for simple thievery, nor were they surprised that Robin looked ready to go and tackle Gisborne himself. They were just afraid of the fire in his eyes.

"Where are they keeping him?" Robin's voice simmered with barely suppressed rage. "In the castle dungeon?"

The man nodded. Robin looked round at his men.

"Robin…" Much started warningly.

"It'd be suicide!" Allan told him. "We haven't been to the castle for months, and for good reason."

Cassie was silent, exasperated, knowing there was no point in trying to argue. She had soon learned how to read the men, and Robin was perhaps the most expressive of all. He had that look in his eyes, that expression of irrepressible boyishness that said he was ready to put the world to rights.

John just gave a barely audible sigh and banged his staff against the ground. "We go after dark."

**XX**

It was surprisingly easy to get into the castle. Allan was wary, Much downright suspicious, thinking they were walking into a trap – but as Robin reminded them, they had not broken into the castle since before the Holy Land. There was no reason for the Sheriff to expect an attack.

Arriving at the dungeon John took great pleasure in knocking out the jailor before taking up guard at the entrance. Allan hid in the shadows further down the corridor, keeping watch.

It was Cassie's first time entering the dungeons and she tried not to choke on the stench or the sight of the filth coating the ground. As Much and Robin hastened towards the back of the dungeon, glancing in each cell to find the prisoner, Cassie pulled her scarf up over her nose and walked up the left hand side.

"Cassie?"

Cassie froze; she knew that voice, weak and tired as it was. Taking two steps backwards she stopped at the door to a cell and slowly turned her head.

Her gasp drew Robin and Much to her, along with the Clun villager whom they had swiftly freed from his imprisonment. "What is it?" Robin asked urgently as Much cast a nervous glance over his shoulder.

Cassie ignored him, stepping closer to the cell and gripping the bars with her hands. The man imprisoned inside slowly placed his own palms over her fingers and squeezed her hands gently.

"Why are you here, Cam?" Cassie asked her old friend.

**XX**

Cam sat in the outlaw's camp, gratefully gulping down a flask full of water. He tipped the last drops over his head, rubbing at his face to try and remove the traces of dungeon grime that clung to his skin.

Robin and Much were watching him, waiting impatiently for him to tell them what had happened to him since disappearing without trace from Stonewell. Cassie was desperate to know as well, but settled for clutching his hand rather than badgering him to tell her what had happened.

Cam looked up at Cassie. "I'm sorry, Cass. I was trying to get revenge for Farrell, I didn't think –"

"Stop," Robin ordered. "We need to wait for the others."

They didn't have to wait long before the door to the camp opened and Allan and John entered, having returned from escorting the villager they had rescued back home to Clun. As soon as they were settled with a piece of bread and some water each, Robin nodded to Cam to continue.

"You all know that Farrell got killed, right?" he asked the assembled outlaws. They all nodded. "One of the guards told Sloane that Farrell helped Cass to escape, and I knew who it was. Wanted my revenge didn't I? So I went to his house and killed his chickens."

Robin sighed. What had Nottinghamshire come to, when the cruellest form of revenge was killing someone else's animal? A chicken was especially valuable as a possession, providing eggs every day and a hearty meal should hunger drive the owner to kill and cook the bird. "How did you end up in the dungeons?" he asked.

"Got caught, didn't I? Thought I'd just get a spell in the stocks or a bit of a beating but Sloane had me hauled off to the castle. Been in there for a few weeks, scared me out my wits it did, didn't know what they were going to do with me."

"Lucky we came, you'd have been for the noose," Allan told him. Cassie shuddered and squeezed her friend's hand tighter.

"Lucky for you, you mean," Cam replied with a grin. Robin raised an eyebrow at him. "Got some useful info for you haven't I?" He tapped his nose. "Inside info."

"Speak up, then," Allan encouraged impatiently.

"Learn some very interesting things in the dungeons. The guards don't worry about secrecy down there; what're we going to do, we're locked up!" Cam took a bite of bread, clearly relishing his importance as the deliverer of useful information. "Few nights ago a pair were talking, said they were being dispatched to guard a wagon coming down from up north. Donation to the King from an estate near Sheffield, they're bringing in to Nottingham on the way down to London."

The outlaws all looked at each other, eyebrows raised, communicating without words. They knew what this meant; no doubt the Sheriff would take at least some of the money for 'safe-keeping'. Perhaps it was in fact all a ruse, and the money was actually part of the Black Knights' scheme.

"When is the money scheduled to arrive?" Robin asked.

Cam's grin widened. "Tomorrow. Great North Road."

Robin smirked. "Everyone, get some rest. There's money to be taken in the morning."

**XX**

Allan peered out around the tree he was hidden behind, on a ridge to the left of the road. He tried to make out Cassie, hidden similarly in the trees on the opposite side of the road, but could not see her.

Trying to entertain himself he fiddled with the bow he held in his hands, testing the string to make sure it was firm. His bow was one of the few material possessions that actually meant something to him; it wasn't worth much but was perhaps the most precious thing he owned. His touch was fond as he glided his fingers along the smooth wood, rubbing at a fleck of dirt to clean it.

His head snapped up as a low whistle sounded through the quiet forest. The signal. He nocked an arrow and held the bow ready. Straining his ears he made out the soft creaking of wheels as the wagon slowly trundled towards his hiding point. He could hear the clanking of the guards' armour as they walked alongside it.

A second whistle sounded. Still invisible from the road Allan let loose an arrow, quickly followed by another. His arrows struck the road a few feet in front of the horses that pulled the wagon, and were soon joined by Cassie's.

As the wagon rolled to a halt Allan leaped out from behind the tree, jumping down onto the road. Cassie was soon at his side. Up ahead Robin and Cam were stood higher in the trees, one on either side of the wagon, arrows pointing down towards it. The dozen guards quickly looked behind them, searching for an escape route, but Allan knew that John and Much would be stood to the rear of the wagon to block prevent any retreat.

"This is an ambush, fellas," Allan announced, grinning as he relished the familiar words that rolled from his tongue. He liked being one of the good guys again.

"We reckon you've got a bit too much money in that wagon," Cassie added.

"Looks a bit heavy," Allan agreed. "Bearing in mind there are hundreds of people going hungry."

"Put down your weapons," Cassie ordered.

The guards sniggered, drawing swords. "We outnumber you two to one," one of them shouted back. "Back off and no-one gets hurt."

Cassie looked at Allan. "I have to say I'm not that worried at the thought of getting hurt. What about you?"

Allan gave her a roguish grin. "My old ma always said I had a death wish."

They drew their swords simultaneously and leapt forwards. They were soon joined by the rest of the gang and the forest was filled with the crashes and clangs of colliding weapons.

Within minutes eight of the guards were flat on the floor, unconscious. The other four quickly surrendered and were tied to trees, ready to be freed when their comrades awoke.

The outlaws stripped the wagon of its contents, taking the chests of coins as well as a sack full of food. They had found a letter sealed with the insignia of the Black Knights so felt no remorse for taking it all. Laughing with the pure joy that came with taking from those who were corrupt and immoral they shouldered their loads of coins and disappeared into the trees.

**XX**

Later that night the mood in the camp was cheery as the outlaws celebrated their victory with a flagon of wine that a grateful Nettlestone villager had bade them take a few days previously. There was an air of satisfaction - their bellies were full, their cheeks flushed with liquor, and the lids had been removed from the chests of gold so the coins glinted in the firelight, reminding them of their victory that day.

After a mealtime of happy laughter a comfortable silence fell over the gang. For once, it was Much who disrupted the quiet rather than Allan.

"I've been thinking," he said, leaning back against his bunk, a contented smile playing across his lips. "We need a better signal."

"We do?" Robin asked, amused, one eyebrow raised.

"Mmm, we do. A whistle is all well and good to attract attention, but the problem is, it might attract the wrong attention. The bad guys. So I was thinking we need something more subtle. More…woodsy."

"Woodsy?" Robin couldn't hide his smirk whilst Allan was already laughing into his tankard. "What did you have in mind?"

Much grinned confidently and raised a clenched fist to his lips. He began to whistle and fluttered his fingers, until a noise halfway between an owl and John's snoring emitted from his fist.

Allan had given up all pretence at sombreness and was howling with laughter. Cassie was a bit more subtle in her laughter as she wasn't making a sound, but silent tears flowed down her cheeks. Cam looked slightly alarmed and John just seemed bemused.

Much looked up proudly. "See? It's a birdcall! Like in the forest. Now if we make it, the guards or whoever won't expect us. They'll just think it's a bird."

"Or they'll think someone's being tortured," Cam muttered.

"It's subtle!" Much protested, looking wounded.

"Not being funny, but how is making a noise like a strangled cat being subtle?" Allan asked.

Cassie let out a sudden snort, unable to keep her laughter hidden any longer. "I'm sorry Much! I'm sorry!" she gasped, wiping her cheeks. Much's face changed from wounded to sulky and he folded his arms across his chest, glaring at them all. "I think it's a good idea, it just needs…practice." Much seemed slightly mollified by Cassie's words.

"Moving on," Robin interjected smoothly. "I think a toast is in order." He lifted his cup and the others followed suit. "To today's success."

"To robbing from the rich," Much added.

"And giving to the poor!" John clinked his cup against Much's.

"To being outlaws!" Allan cheered, his cheeks flushed from being more than slightly merry.

"To Cam," Cassie added, smiling at the boy. "For the tip off."

"Ay, to Cam!" the others echoed.

"Which brings me to the next thing I wanted to discuss." Robin directed his gaze at Cam, who looked nervous under the intense scrutiny. "We all had a chat earlier, reckon you did a good job with the ambush, and…" Reaching into his pocket, Robin withdrew a familiar sliver of engraved wood dangling from a piece of leather.

Cam stared at him, open mouthed. "You're 'aving a laugh!" he burst out.

"Yeah I am," Robin replied, moving to shove the tag back into his pocket.

"Idiot!" Allan cuffed Cam around the head as Robin tossed him the tag and he hung it proudly around his neck.

Robin raised his cup one last time and the others joined the familiar refrain. "We are Robin Hood!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** YAAAY! Dissertation is finished and handed in. To celebrate I bought the series 1 Robin Hood DVD boxset and watched the first nine episodes in a row, then wrote this chapter, and am now working on a Will/Djaq fluffy one shot! Then to watch the rest of the episodes.

Anyway, thank you for the reviews! Three for one chapter! Excited!

**candyfloss77** - Djaq might come back...you'll just have to see once this is finished and the sequel is started! Its all part of the mystery...

**gatewatcher** - Aww I know! I think Allan definitely has a soft side. But no, not stealthy!

**teawithsilk** - Oh I'm glad you like it! And I'm so glad you like Cassie, I'm always a bit wary of writing OCs. And yay for protective Allan!


	10. Getting up to Mischief

**Chapter 10: Getting up to Mischief**

"So old Bob walked into his barn and his whole stock of apples was gone, right? And he was kicking up a right fuss, yelling and stamping all over the village. So I told him I had a batch of apples I'd be willing to sell him cheap for him to sell on at a profit. Bought them all, the old fool – I'd nicked them off him in the first place!" Allan let out a bellow of laughter.

Cassie laughed at Allan's tale, although she knew she shouldn't encourage him in his trickery. They were returning from taking bagfuls of the haul they had taken the previous day to Nettlestone. Making deliveries with the roguish outlaw was always fun; he was full of tales and it took a lot to stem the flow of words from his mouth. He was also full of surprises; you never knew quite what was going to happen if you went anywhere with Allan.

On the other hand, it could be quite tiring spending more than ten minutes with the man. He always needed to be entertained, always needed something to do.

As if on cue, having been quiet for about three seconds, Allan began to whistle. Cassie let him be for a few minutes until the tuneless noise threatened to drive her crazy, and she told him to shut up.

After another fifteen seconds of silence Allan suddenly turned to Cassie with a mischievous grin. "Truth or risk?" he asked.

She sighed. "Do we have to play this?" Allan nodded eagerly. He had come up with the stupid game a few weeks previously and tried to get the others to play it as often as possible. It was entertaining when the others had to reveal embarrassing secrets, and there had been a few hilarious moments when someone chose to take a risk, such as Robin having to conduct an ambush in the nude. But it wasn't so much fun when she had to tell them one of her secrets, or do something foolish for their entertainment. "Truth," she chose.

Allan considered her for a few moments before settling on one. "If you had to kiss one of the gang, who would it be?"

Cassie rolled her eyes at his blatant attempt to get her to stoke his ego. "Well, John is married. So not him. Robin is too – well, as good as." Allan nodded, the sparkle in his eyes diminished for a moment as he remembered Robin and Marian exchanging vows as she lay dying. "Cam is my oldest friend, so not him."

"So it's between me and Much," Allan concluded for her, smirking at her. "Easy choice, right?"

"Yeah, it is." Cassie smirked back at him. "I'd choose Much."

Allan stopped dead in his tracks. "What?!"

"You are so arrogant!" Cassie told him. "Assuming I'd pick you! Why wouldn't I choose Much? He's adorable. And a gentleman, which is more than I can say for you."

Allan gaped at her. "I can be a gentleman."

Cassie snorted. "If I kissed you, I'd be the latest in a long line of foolish young girls beguiled by your pretty eyes and your charming tongue. I'm cleverer than that."

She started walking again and Allan stared after her, still in shock, before hurrying to catch her up. "You have to ask me now."

"Truth or risk?"

"Truth," Allan replied confidently.

Cassie raised her eyebrows. Allan always chose a risk; he didn't care how silly he ended up looking. He'd rather look like a fool than have honesty spill from his lips, or share something personal about himself. "When was the first time you…you know."

Allan smirked at her again. "That's a very personal question Cass."

"That's the point of the game," Cassie countered.

"Alright," he shrugged. "I was fifteen and it was a girl called Eleanor. You know old Bob I was telling you about earlier?" She nodded and Allan grinned. "It was in his barn."

"You know how to treat a girl well," Cassie remarked dryly.

"You don't know the half of it," Allan replied with a sly grin. "Your turn again. Truth or risk?"

"Risk," Cassie decided. If Allan could surprise her, then she could do the same. She regretted her choice almost immediately as a grin slowly spread across his face. Her heart sank – she knew that look, and it normally meant that she wasn't going to like what happened next.

"We're near Stonewell. And it seems to me that you never punished Sloane enough for what he did to you and your pa."

"So?"

"So, your risk is to sneak into the manor and do something that's going to upset him."

Cassie stopped and looked at him in disbelief. "Are you mental? That's…that's just crazy. No way."

"C'mon Cass, it'll make you feel better. Think of Farrell."

Cassie opened her mouth to yell at Allan for using her friend's memory to try and force her to do something ridiculous purely for his entertainment, then slowly closed it as she saw his face. She could tell that he honestly thought she would feel better if she did something cruel to Sloane, and he wanted to help her to do so. "What do you suggest?"

Allan smiled, relieved not to receive the rough side of her tongue. "Will once showed me how he made boxes, and sometimes he uses this stuff his dad discovered. It comes out of the root of this plant, I don't remember its name, but it sticks things together. I used to drive the gang mental sticking stuff to stupid places in the camp."

Cassie grinned. "I like it. Simple."

"But effective. We just need to find the plant."

After describing it to her they continued walking, scouring the forest floor until they managed to find the plant. Pulling up a few handfuls they turned and headed west, towards Stonewell village.

**XX**

"Shhh!" Cassie hissed at Allan. She was sitting in the branches of the tree outside Sloane's bedroom, and Allan was climbing up to join her but had knocked his head against a branch and let out a groan.

He glared at her as he hauled himself up to sit beside her. "Let me hit you over the head with a branch and see how you like it," he growled back at her.

Cassie stuck her tongue out at him before shuffling forward until she could reach out and touch the shutter over the window. Pushing it open she saw the room was empty, and managed to swing herself over onto the windowsill and into the room. Allan quickly followed.

Communicating with gestures and expressions the two moved about the room, squeezing sap from the roots of the plant onto various objects and sticking them into ridiculous places. Within minutes they were stifling laughter at the sight of a comb stuck to the ceiling and an expensive looking ring stuck to the table.

Cassie's eyes lit up as she spotted a hat hanging on a hook. "He always wears this," she whispered to Allan, before squeezing the glue into it and placing it on the table, laughing silently at the image of Sloane putting the hat on his head only for it to stick firmly to his hair. As she looked around for something else Allan glanced out the window and let out a low whistle.

"He's coming back," he whispered. Cassie joined him at the window and they watched as Sloane walked up the path. As soon as he entered the house Allan lifted Cassie up, pushing her through the window until she was in the tree. He followed and they swiftly descended through the branches.

At the bottom they ducked behind the tree trunk and waited. Within seconds they were rewarded as Sloane gave a roar of anger.

Stifling laughter the two outlaws took off at a run.

**XX**

Later that night, as the outlaws ate, Allan relayed the tale of the days mischief through bursts of laughter. Robin tried to chastise them for being reckless but neither he, Cam nor John could disguise their mirth for long. Only Much fretted that they could have been caught and punished.

"Stop being such an old woman," Allan scoffed at him. "It was just a laugh."

Grumbling under his breath about how he wouldn't care if Allan was strung up in the courtyard at the castle, Much gathered up some of the dirty pots and left the camp to wash them in the stream. Cassie shook her head at Allan for upsetting him, but she couldn't be annoyed at his laughing eyes for long.

As Allan turned away to talk to Robin, Cassie found herself still gazing at his profile in the flickering firelight. He was the most frustrating human being she had ever met; never said what he meant, would always choose a cheap quip over something meaningful. Backed out of any corner with a joke, and never stopped poking fun at his friends. Sometimes she just wanted to push him in the river to shut him up, but sometimes…sometimes she just couldn't take her eyes off him. There was something about him, something in his infuriating smirk and mischievous eyes that made her heart hammer against her ribcage. He was a good man, too, underneath all the bravado – that day, for instance, he had truly wanted to help her humiliate Sloane as he had humiliated her father.

Picking up her empty plate Cassie slipped out of the camp and walked the short distance to the stream, smiling at Much's tuneless singing that floated through the silent trees. Crouching beside him she began to wash her plate.

"Allan didn't mean it," she told the man beside her. "It's kind of you to worry about us."

"I'm not going to worry about that oaf any longer," Much grumbled and Cassie smiled.

"Well, _I _appreciate you worrying about me." Her plate clean, she took a pot from the pile beside Much and began scrubbing at it. "So, it must be hard for you men to meet women, living in the forest as you do."

"Not really," Much replied. "Well, it is, but we've all had our… I mean, Robin had Marian. Will and Djaq had each other. And John had Alice, but then she thought he was dead, and then she found out he wasn't but she was angry with him and she left with the cooper and Little Little John."

"Erm…right," Cassie replied in confusion. "How about you?"

Much stopped scrubbing at his plate and gazed out into the darkness, his eyes wistful. "I met the most wonderful, wonderful woman," he replied softly. "Her name is Eve. When all this is over, when the King returns, I shall marry her."

Cassie reached out and squeezed his hand. "That sounds great, Much." She looked down at the stream and swallowed, before speaking in a voice that was a study in nonchalance. "And Allan?"

Much snorted. "Allan, well, I imagine half the village girls and twice as many castle maids have known Allan."

"Oh," she muttered, disappointed.

"They were all just for a bit of fun, though. It was Djaq that Allan always wanted."

"What?" Her head snapped up.

"Yes, Allan always loved Djaq," Much chattered. "A long time ago he and Will both confessed to liking her, but nothing more was said of it. As time went on, well, it was obvious that her and Will were made for each other. Allan never said anything, but if you ask me, he never quite got over it."

Cassie was somewhat disturbed by the sense of disappointment that washed over her at his words. So, Allan's heart was already taken. And by a woman living thousands of miles away with his best friend! But still, love was love.

Wiping her hands dry on her breeches Cassie stood, gathering the clean pots for her and Much to take back to camp.

As they entered the outlaw's camp Robin looked up from where he was relaxing by the fire. "We're going to take food to the villages tomorrow," he told them. "Cass, you're going to Clun with me so I can keep an eye on you."

Allan grinned. "He thinks I'm going to lead you astray."

"You did today," she retorted.

Allan shrugged. "It was all for a good cause. C'mon Robin, me and Cass make a good team! Let her come to Locksley with me, Cam can go to Clun with you instead."

"Do you promise to behave?" Robin asked Allan suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

"Promise," the trickster replied innocently.

"Cass?"

Cassie shrugged. "Whatever is fine." She retreated to the far corner of the camp and clambered into her bunk, leaving the others raising their eyebrows at each other.

"Allan obviously has a bad effect on women," Cam said with a grin, before leaving the camp to take up the guard position for the night.

**XX**

Shortly after dawn the outlaws left the camp carrying sacks of food. They split up to head in their various directions; Allan and Cassie to Locksley, Cam and Robin to Clun, and Much and John to Nettlestone.

Cassie and Allan knew they had to be especially careful in Locksley, with Gisborne living there. He was very rarely seen, according to the villagers, and the outlaws assumed he was living at the castle. Although the subject of Marian was very rarely broached they all secretly believed that he could not face living in what would have been their marital home.

They delivered the food as quickly as possible; Locksley was the worst village for guards. The peasants knew that the outlaws were putting themselves in danger every time they entered the village and repaid their kindness by making no fuss if they spotted any of the mysterious hooded figures sidling through the shadows.

The two outlaws were soon walking back towards the camp. Cassie was partly disappointed that Allan had stayed true to his word and not attempted to lead her into mischief, and partly glad that she didn't have to speak much to him. Ever since her conversation with Much the night before she had been sulking, and was irritated by how strongly she had reacted to the knowledge that Allan was in love with Djaq.

"I told Robin I could behave," Allan muttered, half to himself.

"Don't worry, I'll tell him you were good," Cassie teased. He nudged her playfully with his elbow.

The sharp crack of a twig sounded and Cassie's brow furrowed. There was something wrong. Glancing down she realised instantly what it was; they were passing through a sunlit glade, a space free of trees. Their soft leather boots were silent upon the soft grass. Neither of them had stepped on a twig.

Grabbing hold of Allan's arm she yanked him to the right, dragging him behind the cover of the nearest tree. He frowned at her, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. "We're being followed," she hissed, drawing her sword. Allan's eyes widened and he pulled his bow free, taking an arrow from his quiver and nocking it against the bow string.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a new voice said. Its owner, a thickset man in a guards uniform, appeared from behind a tree a few metres away. He smiled, but the expression was unctuous and did not reach his eyes. "We've got you surrounded."

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**Author's Note:** Eee another chapter! We're two thirds of the way through now! Thank you for the reviews, **candyfloss77** and **gatewatcher**!


	11. Capture

**Chapter 11: Capture**

Pain. That was all Allan could feel as he opened his eyes; sharp, searing pain across his brow as if his head had been split in two. He winced as the sunlight assaulted his eyes and tried to lift his hand to shield them.

Allan frowned as he realised that his hand was not moving. He realised that it was not by his side, where his hand normally rested – it was above him. As his fuzzy mind slowly cleared he felt the rough rub of rope against his wrists. His hands were tied together above his head. Looking upwards he saw the rope was tied to a tree branch.

That was not good.

"So the outlaw is back with us," that same, greasy voice from earlier spoke. Allan struggled to focus on the face that swam before his eyes. Things were slowly coming back to him – a dozen men emerging from the trees brandishing weapons, him putting up a fight but being knocked out by the hilt of a sword across his forehead. Ah, so that explained the constant explosions of pain above his eyes. There was someone else there too, someone who he had seen crumple to the ground moments before he was knocked unconscious.

Cassie!

Clarity flooded his mind and he looked desperately around at his surroundings. He was still in the glade but tied to a tree, and on the opposite side of the clearing was Cassie in a similar position. She was awake, and had no injuries that he could see. He sagged against his bonds in relief.

The next problem was to find a way out. Scanning the glade again he saw the dozen guards in a circle, surrounding them and blocking every exit. Damn. He wriggled his hands against the ropes that tied them, but the knots held fast and he could not squeeze his hands free.

The man in front of him began to laugh. "Trying to escape is pointless, outlaw," he murmured in his thick, poisonous voice.

"You've got this all wrong!" Allan cried. He couldn't break free, so the next option was to talk himself and Cassie out of the situation. "Outlaws? Me an' 'er? Don't talk dung! We're not even from around 'ere, we're from Rochdale! Just on our way to visit me sister, she's had a baby see."

The man laughed again, then began to applaud slowly, sarcastically. "Nice try. Impressive. But again, pointless." He walked over to Cassie and stroked her cheek as she closed her eyes and tried to turn her face from him. "See, this is no peasant from Rochdale. This is Cassandra, from Stonewell, and we've been sent to fetch her back for Sloane." A sickening grin spread across his face. "He wants to teach her a lesson."

"You're wrong!" Allan said again, more desperately this time. "She may look like her, but I promise, her name's Eleanor! She's me wife, see."

Even from across the glade Allan could see her eyebrows rise. The man left her side and walked slowly back towards Allan. "Don't try to play me for a fool," he said softly, and his voice now held a dangerous edge. "That is Cassandra. And you…well, Sloane'll be please. An outlaw into the bargain."

"I'm not an outlaw!" Allan protested.

"I told you not to play me for a fool." The man raised his sword and pressed the tip of the blade against Allan's throat. He gulped, but the man simply slid the blade underneath the edge of his shirt and hooked it through the cord of Allan's outlaw tag, pulling it from underneath his clothes. "Bit of a giveaway this."

"Alright, alright, so I'm an outlaw." Allan's mind was moving furiously, trying to think of some way, any way to get preferably both of them, but most importantly Cassie, out of danger. He didn't like the way this man was leering at the girl, or the way he spoke about Sloane wanting to teach her a lesson. "Let the girl go, ey? Come on gents, she's nothing to do with this. You've got one of Robin Hood's gang! Good on you. But leave the lass alone."

The man considered him, pulling an apple from his pocket and a dagger from his belt. Slicing off chunks of the apple he ate them slowly. "Interesting," he said slowly. "You're right, we _have_ got one of Robin Hood's men. Maybe if we get a couple more we'll get a bonus. Maybe a turn with the lass, hey lads?" The guards in the glade sniggered and Allan strained against his bonds again, letting out an angry growl.

"Leave her alone," he bit out.

"Interesting," the man said again, his lips twitching into a smirk. "You tell us where the camp is, where we'll find some more of you do-gooders. Or…" He let his gaze wander to Cassie.

"I'll never tell you," Allan growled.

"Really? Never?" The man walked back to Cassie's side and delivered a swift backhanded slap to her cheek. She let out a yelp and Allan yelled in anger, flinging himself forward only for his shoulders to complain as he almost yanked his arms from their socket. The man grinned triumphantly. "Everyone has a weakness, outlaw. And I think I just found yours."

"I know you!" a new voice suddenly piped up. One of the guards stepped forwards and beckoned the leader over. "I know who the outlaw is Haines." The guard whispered furiously into Haines' ear.

Haines turned back to Allan. "Of course! I remember you. But now I'm confused. Why won't you tell us what we want to know? You told Gisborne everything for money, didn't you, traitor?"

Allan looked down at the ground, humiliation settling over him. Cassie had never been told he was a traitor, and to him it was one of very few redeeming features about himself. She knew that he was annoying, cheeky, a trickster, full of jokes and empty of compassion. But she did not know that he was a pathetic traitor.

"Traitor?" Cassie's eyes locked with Allan's, full of confusion. "What is he talking about Allan?"

"Aha!" Haines crowed. "The girlfriend doesn't know. Doesn't know your dirty little secret."

"Allan?" she asked again.

"I…" Allan faltered. His tongue, normally so quick, was struggling to find words.

"He's a traitor!" Haines roared. "A filthy little traitor. Betrayed his precious outlaws to Gisborne for a few bags of gold and a nice leather jerkin."

"Stop lying!" Cassie shouted at him. "He is lying, isn't he, Allan?"

Allan's guilty eyes told her everything, and she stared at him in horror.

**XX**

John Little was not having a good day. He very rarely had to spend time alone with Much, who normally accompanied Robin on their trips. But he had spent the whole day with Much, and now he remembered why he hated doing so.

The man would not stop singing.

John was fighting an internal battle within himself. He could deliver a swift blow to the infuriating man's head with his staff and stop the singing. But then he would have to carry him all the way back to the camp.

The prospect of a heavy load but silence was becoming more and more appealing when Much stopped abruptly and John heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps today he would not have to commit any bodily harm.

"John, I've just remembered, there's a clearing nearby where you get some lovely mushrooms! Can we go and collect some for tonight's dinner?"

John opened his mouth to say no, having no desire to prolong the agony of alone time with Much. Then his stomach rumbled with hunger and he acquiesced with a sigh.

They changed their direction, walking swiftly towards the promised mushrooms. Much started to sing again, but over the tuneless drone John heard the low murmur of voices. He clapped a large hand over Much's mouth, silencing the man, and gestured forwards.

Much understood instantly and the two crept forwards, sneaking through trees and undergrowth until they came upon the glade where Allan and Cassie were being held captive. John had to muffle Much again as he let out a gasp, then he raised his staff and stepped forward. Much grabbed hold of John's coat, dragging him backwards. John followed him as they retreated to the road.

"What are you doing?" John hissed. "We need to rescue them!"

"Did you see how many guards there were?" Much returned. "We need to attract the others, they might be nearby."

Taking a step back from John he raised his fist to his mouth and let out his bird call. It was still a bit strangled, but sounded a lot better then before.

"You've been practising," John muttered, before cuffing Much around the head and letting out a low whistle.

"You idiot!" Much went to shove him then thought better of it. "They'll have heard that!"

In response John grabbed him and dragged him into a ditch beneath the exposed roots of a giant oak. "If they aren't here in ten minutes we rescue them ourselves," he ordered.

**XX**

"Are you alright?" Robin asked Cam as the two hurried through the forest towards the camp. The boy had seemed nervous and twitchy all day, and kept checking behind him as if he expected to see someone on his tail.

"Fine!" The newest outlaw replied quickly.

The two continued in silence until Robin stopped dead, his ears catching the faintest note of a familiar noise. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.

"Hear what?" Cam asked.

"Much's ridiculous birdcall."

"I didn't hear anything," Cam replied with a shrug.

Robin stayed frozen, listening, and a split second later he heard the low note of John's whistle. "Come on!" he urged and took off at a sprint.

Cam followed and the two raced through the forest, leaping over fallen logs and dodging past bundles of brambles. Branches whipped in their faces and roots threatened to trip them, but Robin was well practised at running through the forest and Cam followed his path.

The pair skidded to a stop as they came to the road and the bulk of John emerged from a ditch, followed by Much. The pair quickly explained what they had seen and the four outlaws spread out, surrounding the glade behind the guards.

At the signal, which was Robin's shrill whistle, the four burst into the clearing. They had the element of surprise but the guards quickly reacted, and the glade was soon a whirling flurry of blades and fists.

Allan was not surprised to see them; he had heard Much's stupid birdcall, followed by John's more controlled whistle. He was bloody relieved though. It only took a few moments for Much to reach him and slice through his bonds, and as soon as he was freed Allan grabbed for a soldier, bringing him down with a knee to the groin and an elbow to the head. As soon as he was on the ground Allan wrenched the sword from his grip and turned to fight his way across the glade to Cassie.

As he turned he saw that the tree where Cassie had been tied was empty. He quickly scanned the glade, searching for her blonde hair amongst the black uniforms of the guards, but could not see her.

"Help!" Her voice was suddenly borne upon the breeze and he whirled round, to see Haines and another guard disappearing into the trees, dragging Cassie along with them. With a yell he made to follow but a guard jumped in front of him, and he was soon engaged in a bitter sword fight.

Before long all the guards were either prone on the floor or had run away into the trees. The outlaws all stood panting, Much nursing a cut to the upper arm and Robin rubbing a bruised head. Trying to catch his breath Allan turned wildly to the trees but he knew there was no point in looking – Haines and Cassie would be long gone.

Throwing his guards sword to the ground in disgust Allan hastened to where Haines had thrown his own belongings. Snatching his sword belt from the ground he buckled it around his waist, and turned in the direction of Stonewell only to stop when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

"Wait," John told him quietly.

"We will all go," Robin added. "But we need a plan."

"But they have Cassie!" Allan protested.

"I know," Robin placated. "But we can't go wading in their blindly. Tell us what happened." Allan relayed his tale quickly, telling of the ambush and the capture. Robin frowned as he spoke. "So they wanted Cassie and were sent by Sloane. They knew who Cassie was and who you were…and they obviously knew where you were going to be." He looked over at Much, who realised his meaning.

"So who told them?"

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**Author's Note:** Thank you thank you for the reviews! I'm glad people are enjoying this! The last few chapters are going to be pretty short, but there'll hopefully be some fun action and a few admissions! So enjoy :)


	12. Accusations and Betrayal

**Chapter 12: Accusations and Betrayal**

Without warning, Robin lunged for Allan and slammed him against the nearest tree trunk.

"Ouch!" Allan yelled as his back scraped against the rough bark. "What are you doing!"

"Master!" Much admonished.

"What was the price, Allan?" Robin asked, his voice low and dangerous, simmering with rage.

"Not being funny, but what are you on about?" Allan asked, trying to push Robin off him. "Lemme go!"

"Not until you tell me, what was your price? A bag of gold? The promise of power? How much did they pay you to betray Cassie, to tell Sloane where she would be today?"

Allan's eyes widened as he realised what Robin meant. "Hold on a second. You think I betrayed her? You think I told that heap of waste that Cass would be passing through here today?"

"Yes," Robin replied. "I do." Pulling Allan forward he slammed him against the tree once more. "Now tell me everything!" he shouted.

"I didn't betray her!" Allan bellowed back. "I wouldn't do that, not again! Especially not to Cass!"

"Why not!" Robin yelled furiously.

"I just wouldn't!"

"Why!" Robin demanded once more. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I love her!" Allan roared. Robin's grip on his shoulders slackened slightly as he took a step backwards in shock. Allan pushed him off and rubbed his sore shoulders, as surprised by his own admission as the others in the clearing.

"I'm getting a sense of déjà vu," Much muttered, scuffing his toe against the ground. "I like her, I think I love her, oh Djaq…" he continued in a sing song voice before stopping suddenly and looking at Allan worriedly. "Oh, dear. I think I may have made a mistake."

"What?"

"I, er…" Much studied the ground. "I told Cassie that you were in love with Djaq."

"WHAT!" Allan repeated, furious. "What did you do that for?"

"Because I thought you were!" Much protested. "You said, that time she got captured…"

"That was months ago!"

Much winced. "Oops?" he offered apologetically.

"Oops? OOPS?" Allan lunged for him but John stepped between the two. "You idiot!" Allan shouted around John's bulk.

"Alright, calm down," Robin interrupted impatiently. He narrowed his eyes at Allan. "You had better be telling the truth."

"I swear to you Robin, I had nothing to do with it."

Robin nodded. He believed him; he had to. He looked at the worried faces of his gang. "So it wasn't Allan, and it certainly wasn't me. Much? John? Cam?" His brow furrowed. "Wait. Where's Cam?"

The others all looked around. Aside from the four men, the glade was empty.

"That little…" Much started, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I don't believe it," Allan said. "He was supposed to be her friend."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "You were supposed to be _our_ friend."

"Robin, this isn't about me!" Allan exploded. "How did Cam do it? And why, I mean, Sloane had him thrown in the dungeon!"

"No he didn't," Robin said slowly as he lowered himself to the ground. The others could practically see his brain working. "Think about it. He said he'd been in the dungeon for weeks but his clothes were barely marked, he wasn't thin. They must have just put him in there for us to find."

"How did they know we were coming that night though?" Much pondered. "It was purely by chance that we found him that night, thanks to that villager telling us about his friend being arrested."

"It was all a set up, Much, don't you see!" Robin exploded. He had stood again and was pacing back and forth, wearing angry scuffs into the grass as he stamped the ground. "The Sheriff knew we'd come to rescue the peasant from Clun, so he sent that other man as an impostor to fetch us then threw the peasant and Cam in the dungeon. That's why it was so easy for us to get into the castle; he wanted us to get in. They must have told Cam about that wagon so he could tip us off, and we'd accept him into the gang."

"Are we really so predictable?" Much muttered.

"But why would the Sheriff go to so much effort?" Allan asked.

"To get hold of us," Robin replied. "Sloane must have been furious when Cassie left, furious enough to hang Farrell. And he knew Cassie was with us when we robbed his house because Cam saw her, Cam must have told him. Then he paid Cam off to trick us. And the Sheriff helped because he'd have an insider in the gang again. That way Sloane would get Cassie, and the Sheriff would get the whole gang."

"Cam was on guard last night," Allan added. "After we arranged that me and Cass were going to Locksley. He must have slipped off and told Sloane where we'd be."

Robin ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't believe it; for the second time he'd been tricked, betrayed. "I'll kill him," he muttered. "As soon as I get my hands on him."

"We need to find Cass first, Robin," Allan replied nervously. "Please Robin, help me rescue her."

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**Author's Note:** Thank you again for the reviews! And good work to **teawithsilk** for guessing the traitor!


	13. Escape route

**Chapter 13: Escape route**

Ouch.

That was the only vaguely coherent thought that Cassie could muster as her brain slowly began to wake up. All she could feel was pain – she hurt all over.

Not daring to open her eyes for fear of triggering further agony she tried to piece together what had happened to result in this suffering. She had been tied up in the clearing, Haines had been talking…Allan had been there…Allan.

Traitor.

The word seared through her head and at once she felt ten times worse. Allan had been a traitor, he had betrayed the gang. She didn't know the full story yet, knew she

should hear his version of events…but still. A traitor! And the gang had taken him back.

She was furious that he hadn't told her. All this time she had been talking to Allan, getting to know him, fooling around with him, letting herself fall for him. And the whole time he had been harbouring that secret, that dirty little secret.

The gang were no better. They hadn't told her either. Had they been laughing at her the whole time, laughing at how easily she fell for his charming words and sparkling eyes?

She had found out Allan's secret and then everything went a bit blurry. She had been staring at him in disbelief as Haines mocked her for being so naïve, then suddenly Robin, Much, John and Cam had been there.

In the midst of the fight, as Robin came towards her to cut her free, a guard had distracted him and Haines had sliced through her bonds instead. Clapping a hand over his mouth he and a second guard had half carried, half dragged her away into the forest. She'd managed to shout for help once but had been silenced by a blow to the head.

And now she was here. Not that she knew where 'here' was yet, having not dared open her eyes. Ever so slowly she opened them, letting her eyes adjust gradually to the darkness that surrounded her. As she became accustomed to the darkness she managed to make out some shapes – a few chairs, a cabinet, a large chest. The chest had a familiar crest painted on it, and she realised where she was – the cellar at Stonewell Manor.

Right, she knew where she was. Now to work out what position she was in. She could tell she was sitting upright, so assumed she was on a chair. She tried to move her hands and managed to work out that they were tied behind her, around the back of the chair. She wriggled and flexed her fingers but to no avail; the knots held fast. As she tried to drag her hands free of the rope it burned her skin.

So her hands were useless. How about her feet? She found that she could move her feet back and forth, but couldn't lift her legs. They were tied to the chair, just below the knees.

Cassie grinned. So the guards weren't that smart after all. Her feet reached the floor and she had some movement, so she stood up. She was hunched right over but ever so slowly, trying to keep her balance, she managed to shuffle a few paces.

She had a plan. Slowly, ever so slowly, she shuffled across the room until she reached the cabinet.

The first stage was complete. She turned herself around and sank back down onto the chair, her back to the cabinet, panting from her exertions.

As soon as she had her breath back she began to move her hands, running her fingers across the smooth surface of the cabinet. They soon found the cold metal of the handle and the catch, and she managed to flick the catch upwards.

She shuffled the chair forward again so that one of the cabinet doors could swing open. Reaching backwards, she felt the contents of the cabinet. As she had hoped, it was half filled with flagons of wine.

Grasping the neck of one of the bottles she withdrew it from the cabinet and, with as much force as she could muster, whacked it against the front of the cabinet. The glass smashed and she winced as the liquid gushed over her hands and a piece of falling glass caught her finger.

She had kept hold of the bottle neck and managed to twist it around without dropping it, so the jagged edge was against the rope. Gritting her teeth she began to saw it back and forth, feeling the rope begin to slacken as she cut through the fibres. Trying not to yelp every time she caught her skin with the broken glass she gradually cut through the rope until, yanking her hands apart firmly, she managed to free them.

Celebrating silently inside her head Cassie rubbed her sore wrists, shaking her hands to get feeling back into them. After a few moments of recovery she picked up her makeshift knife once more and sawed through the ropes around her legs.

As soon as she was free she tried to think of a way out. The cellar was underground; there were no windows to escape through. The only option was the door. Foolishly, as she knew it would be locked, she tiptoed up the steps and tried the door. Of course it was locked firmly. She could probably have broken through it, but no doubt there was a guard on the other side. The door opened into the kitchen, and if she could take the guard out…the maids would probably turn a blind eye, and the kitchen door would provide the perfect escape route.

As she examined the lock to work out if she could pick it she heard heavy footsteps against the flagstone flooring in the kitchen. Darting back down the steps she looked around desperately for a weapon, and grabbed another bottle that she could smash over someone's head. Taking hold of a chair with her free hand she ducked around the side of the cabinet so she was hidden from the door.

She heard the key turn in the lock and the sound of a heavy bolt being dragged back. The door opened and she winced as daylight flooded the cellar.

"Got free of the chair did we? Clever girl." She shivered at Sloane's voice. "Lets not play games Cassandra, I know you're in here somewhere. Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

Tightening her grip on the bottle Cassie leapt out from behind the cabinet, only to freeze when she saw the two people at the top of the steps. The bottle fell from her hand and smashed against the floor as she stared in shock. Sloane was there, and at his side was Cam.

"Cam!" she gasped. "Did they capture you too? Are you alright? They haven't hurt you have…" Her voice trailed off as she looked at her friend in confusion. His hands were not tied, there was no guard watching him – why was he standing there? Why didn't he run?

"I'm sorry, Cass," he said quietly, staring at the floor and not daring to meet her eyes.

She stared at him, her knees giving way as realisation flooded her mind. "You!"

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**Author's Note:** Because this chapter and the next are quite short I decided I would post them at the same time...you lucky readers ;-) thanks for the reviews and enjoy!


	14. Rescue

**Chapter 14: Rescue**

"You!" Cassie gasped. "It was you! You betrayed us, you betrayed _me_!"

"I'm sorry, Cass," the boy repeated.

"Sorry? You're SORRY?" She was yelling now, yelling through the tears that unwillingly spilled from her eyes. "How dare you stand there and speak to me! Farrell died for me, he died for me because he helped me to escape! But you…" She shook her head, unable to find words. Her mind was racing, quickly working out how he had tricked her, how he had used her to become part of the gang. How he must have sneaked off whilst he was on guard to tell Sloane where she would be, to _betray_ her.

"Well, this _is_ entertaining," Sloane said with a sly smile. "What did you think, Cassandra? That he was your friend, that he would always be your friend, always be there to protect you?"

"Yes, I did, actually," she spat back.

"Sorry to disappoint you my poor, naïve little girl, but the world doesn't work like that."

"It should work like that!" she shouted back. "It works like that with good people, with people who are honest and kind and trustworthy! But you two! I don't know which of you is worse."

Sloane raised an eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh I know all about you, Sloane," she replied. "I know how you tricked my father out of the estate. I know how you lie, and how you cheat with your weighted dice. How you swindle innocent men, con them out of their wages, scam them out of their lives!"

"When you put it like that, it makes me sound so…successful," he mused, smirking down at her.

"Until about ten minutes ago I thought that was the worst thing that would ever happen to me," she continued. "But now…" Her gaze fixed on Cam again. "Now I've been betrayed by someone I thought was my best friend, my oldest friend. You evil, traitorous piece of horse dung! I trusted you Cam, I would have trusted you with my life."

"My heart bleeds," Sloane mocked. "I think you need to learn a lesson about life, Cassandra. It isn't all hearts and roses and honesty. The lovers die and the devious survive."

"I'd rather die than betray my friends!" she returned.

"Oh, how noble." Sloane rolled his eyes. "You surprise me, Cassandra. You should know all about trickery and deceit, keeping the company you keep."

"You mean the gang? How dare you liken them to yourself, they are fighting for the good of England!"

"I was talking about your boyfriend," Sloane replied, sounding bored.

"My what?"

"What was his name again, Cam?" Sloane asked the boy still standing next to him. "Adam? Aaron?"

"Allan?" Cassie spluttered. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Cam told me the two of you were…close. But how much do you know about him? He's a traitor Cassandra, a cheap, immoral traitor. You must attract those that do not really care about you, those that would betray you for a coin."

Cassie just stared at him as the fight ebbed out of her. Sloane smirked, knowing his words had hurt, and began to descend the stairs. He walked towards her, and Cassie backed up slowly, until her back was pressed against the wall.

"Go away," she whispered.

"There's nowhere to hide," he replied. "Nowhere to run."

As he leered at her there was a commotion at the top of the stairs. Cam slumped to the ground and his body tumbled lifelessly into the cellar as Robin and Allan appeared. Cassie gasped in relief as they leapt down the steps, brandishing weapons. She could hear the sound of fighting in the kitchen and knew that John and Much must have been battling against the guards.

She leapt forwards but Sloane ducked swiftly behind her and wrapped an arm around her neck, pressing against her jugular so she choked. A dagger he pulled from his belt was soon pressed against her skin.

Robin and Allan froze, Robin with an arrow nocked and Allan with his sword raised. Robin's eyes were made of steel whilst Allan's were desperate, flickering between the knife at her throat and her pleading eyes.

"Take one more step and she dies," Sloane said tonelessly, as if he was bored of the whole situation.

"There is no need for bloodshed," Robin countered.

"Keep him talking!" Cassie mouthed desperately. Robin caught her words.

"This whole situation is unnecessary," he continued. "We have no quarrel with you Sloane, all we want is Cassie."

As he spoke Cassie slowly, slowly lifted her right leg, trying to keep it from touching Sloane so he did not realise she was moving. Stretching her arm and fingers as far as they would go she grasped the handle of the dagger concealed in her boot and withdrew it silently.

"Cassandra," Sloane replied, emphasising her full name, "Is _mine_."

Taking a deep breath Cassie moved her hand backwards swiftly, plunging the dagger into Sloane's stomach. As he yelled in pain his grip around her neck loosened and she pulled free, staggering forward blindly into Allan's waiting arms.

He enveloped her into a hug and stroked her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder. "Shh," he soothed. "It's over, wildcat. It's all over."

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**Author's Note:** Here's the second part of your double bill this evening! Enjoy!


	15. Heart to heart

**Chapter 15: Heart to heart**

Allan stared at Cassie across the fire. She was sitting on a stool, knees drawn up to her chest, shaking. She had been shaking ever since they fought their way out of Stonewell, ever since they disappeared into the safety of Sherwood Forest. She hadn't spoken, either, except to say that she wasn't hurt.

She hadn't spoken to him, hadn't even looked at him, since she had dragged herself from his embrace in the cellar. He had half a hope that she was simply too exhausted to pay him any attention but deep down he knew that the news of his treachery had hurt her deeply.

Straightening up from his position slouching against the wall Allan took a blanket off his bed and walked around the fire, draping it around Cassie's shoulders. She didn't move, didn't say thank you. Allan sat down next to her and tentatively reached an arm around her, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her. She shrugged his arm away, then stood up and walked out of the camp.

Allan's head sank into his hands. He was aware of the sympathetic looks the other men were giving him and it made his skin crawl. He was not used to feeling like this, to feeling so much.

Emotions, who needed them?

Standing up he knocked the stool over with a kick and made to leave the camp.

"Are you going after her?" Much asked.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Be careful," Robin cautioned. "Women, emotions…it's not pretty."

"Thanks for the advice," Allan muttered, leaving the camp. Cassie had disappeared but he knew where she'd gone.

Allan moved swiftly through the trees until he reached the location of Farrell's grave. As he had assumed Cassie was there, sitting beside his grave, her shoulders shaking with sobs. He walked over and stood behind her, knowing that he must proceed with caution. He was not used to thinking what to say; normally he blundered into a situation with a joke to lighten the mood, but somehow he didn't think it would go down well this time.

"Do you hate me?" he asked.

"No," the girl replied, but she didn't look up.

"Can I sit down?" She shrugged and Allan took that as an invitation, settling down on the ground next to her. "You're crying, am I allowed to give you a hug?"

"No," she repeated.

Allan sighed; she certainly wasn't going to make this easy for him. And she hadn't even heard his stupid admission in the forest! He couldn't believe he'd come out with that in front of the lads. Love! What did he know about love? He loved the gang, but being in love with a girl…that was something new. Something unheard of in Allan A-Dale's world. And yet, even as he tried to laugh it off inside his head, he knew that he could not get rid of the knowledge. It was there, as certain as the fact that the sun set each day, as certain as the fact that Will loved Djaq. He loved her.

"I suppose the news of me being a traitor was a bit of a shocker," he started.

"You could say that," she replied dryly. "I knew you were a liar and a trickster, I didn't know you were a filthy traitor."

Allan looked down at his hands. That hurt. "It was a long time ago, Cass. I've learnt my lesson."

"You still did it," she retorted. "And you could have told me."

"Oh, that would have been a great first impression wouldn't it? 'Hi, I'm Allan, I'm a traitor. I betrayed my friends, pleased to meet you.'" He sneaked a glance at her and was relieved to see a smile nudging the corner of her mouth. "Look, Cass, I'm not proud of it. I regret it every day, but it's done and I can't take it back. The others have forgiven me, and I'd rather die than do it again, I swear to you."

Cassie sighed deeply. "A few hours ago I would have accepted that, Allan. I would been hurt that you hadn't told me, would have made you apologise a few times, maybe had you wash the pots for me for a week. But now…" She turned her head to look at him for the first time and he was shocked by the raw pain in her eyes. "Cam betrayed me, Allan. And it hurts, it hurts so much. And now I know that you're a traitor…"

"I _was_ a traitor," he corrected.

"But how do I know it will never happen again?" She stood up and looked down at him. "How can I trust you again now?"

Allan stood up as well. "You can trust me because…because…"

"Because what?" she asked impatiently.

Allan rubbed a hand through his hair, stricken. How did he tell her? Should he tell her at all? His mind flashed to Will; it had taken that stupid game and Djaq's honesty for him to have the woman he loved. How long would it take for his feelings to come out if he wasn't honest? But honesty was not one of Allan's strong points. "Because…"

"Allan, in the name of all that is holy, will you spit it out?"

"Becauseiloveyou!" Allan finally cried, his words running into each other in his haste to get them out of his mouth.

Cassie stared at him. Shaking her head, she rubbed at her ears with her hands and started to laugh. "Right, sorry Allan but I think I must be going deaf," she said. "I could have sworn you just said…but you can't have said…"

"I said I love you," Allan repeated, looking at her pleadingly. He needed her to put him out of his misery; the turmoil in his mind and his tense muscles felt something akin to torture.

"You love me. Right. Because that makes all the sense in the world." She turned away from him, and Allan's heart sank. "But how does that make me trust you?" she snapped, whirling round again. "You betrayed Djaq!"

Allan stared at her blankly. "Erm, I know I betrayed Djaq."

"Exactly!"

"I think I'm missing the point here, Cass. What's Djaq got to do with it?"

Cassie threw her hands up, exasperated. "You were in love with Djaq, and you betrayed her! So how do I know that you won't do the same to me?"

"I was…what?"

"In love with Djaq."

"Bloody Much," Allan muttered, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot. "Got his wires crossed didn't he, the great oaf! I was never in love with Djaq. I liked her, for about five minutes, until I realised that Will was in love with her. And until I realised how bloody stubborn she was, and how she was always right." Allan risked a cheeky grin. "Bit like you actually."

"Oh, so you're admitting I'm always right?" Cassie returned.

"Don't tell the lads I said that," Allan implored, his grin widening. "They'll think I'm going soft."

"Maybe you are, saying that you love me."

"Yeah, maybe I am." There was silence for a moment. "Cass, this is the part where you either make me a happy man, or make me feel like a bit of a fool."

"What do you want me to say, Allan? That I can forget everything that I've heard today? Because I can't. I wish I could, but I can't. I can't forget that you were a traitor, I can't forget that Cam betrayed me, and I can't get rid of the fear that you will do the same!"

"I want you to tell me if you feel the same about me, actually," Allan replied.

Cassie stared at him. "It doesn't matter! Don't you see? Whether you are my friend or my lover, I will still know what you did. And if you remain my friend, it will hurt less if you betray me."

"But I won't," Allan protested, though he knew his words were futile. He sighed. "If things were different, though. If you hadn't found out that I betrayed the gang, what would you have said?"

Cassie looked at him sadly. "I love you, Allan. I do. But it's too late."

Allan nodded. He should have expected this. "Do me a favour?" he asked as Cassie turned to leave. "Don't tell the lads."

"I won't."

"And forget everything I just said?" he added hopefully.

"I told you, Allan," she replied softly. "I can't forget."

**XX**

Cassie walked back into the camp, taking a plate from the table and ladling out a portion of stew from the pot that swung above the fire. She settled down onto a stool and took a mouthful of food before looking at Robin.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked. "I think it's about time we planned a decent raid."

Robin looked at her, eyebrows raised, whilst John and Much eyed each other worriedly. "Sure you're up to it?" Robin asked.

"No," Cassie replied, managing a smile. "But there are poor going hungry, and we need to do something about it." Allan came into the camp and she glanced at him, then round at the rest of the gang. "After all, we are Robin Hood."

****

THE END

**Author's Note:** Well! There we go. The end. But have no fear, the sequel is in the making! And I'm working on an AU school fic too.

I hope this chapter doesn't suck too badly. I really didn't want Allan to seem too OOC but I did want him to have a bit of a heart to heart with Cassie.

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this fic!!

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